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COMWGirr DEPOSIT. 



A 

HANDBOOK OF ETHICAL 
THEORY 



BY 

GEORGE STUART FULLERTON 

LATE PROFESSOR OF PHILOSOPHY IN 
COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY 




NEW YORK 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 

1922 



1> 



-^^ 



Copyright, 1922, 

BY 

HENRY HOLT AND COMPANY 



©CJ.A661833 


PRINTED IN U. 8. A. 




V» | 



To 

MY WIFE 



PREFACE 

We are all amply provided, with moral maxims, which 
we hold with more or less confidence, but an insight 
into their significance is not attained without reflection 
and some serious effort. Yet, surely, in a field in which 
there are so many differences of opinion, clearness of 
insight and breadth of view are eminently desirable. 

It is with a view to helping students of ethics in our 
universities and outside of them to a clearer compre- 
hension of the significance of morals and the end of 
ethical endeavor, that this book has been written. 

I have, in the Notes appended to it, taken the liberty 
of making a few suggestions to teachers, some of whom 
have fewer years of teaching behind them than I have. 
I make no apology for writing in a clear and untechni- 
cal style, nor for reducing to a minimum references to 
literatures in other tongues than our own. These things 
are in accord with the aim of the volume. 

I take this opportunity of thanking Professor Margaret 
F. Washburn, of Vassar College, and Professor F. J. E. 
Woodbridge, of Columbia University, for kind assistance, 
which I have found helpful. 

G. S. F. 
New York, 1921. 



CONTENTS 

PART I 
THE ACCEPTED CONTENT OF MORALS 

PAGE 

Chapter I. Is There an Accepted Content? 3 

I. The Point in Dispute. 2. What Constitutes Sub- 
stantial Agreement? 3. Dogmatic Assumption. 

Chapter II. The Codes of Communities 8 

4. The Codes of Communities: Justice. 5. The Codes 
of Communities: Veracity. 6. The Codes of Communi- 
ties: the Common Good. 

Chapter III. The Codes of the Moralists 15 

7. The Moralists. 8. Epicurean and Stoic. 9. Plato; 
Aristotle; the Church. 10. Later Lists of the Virtues. 

II. The Stretching of Moral Concepts. 12. The Re- 
flective Mind and the Moral Codes. 

PART II 

ETHICS AS SCIENCE 

Chapter IV. The Awakening to Reflection 24 

13. The Dogmatism of the Natural Man. 14. The 
Awakening. 

Chapter V. Ethical Method 33 

15. Inductive and Deductive Method. 16. The Authority 
of the "Given." 

Chapter VI. The Materials of Ethics 38 

17. How the Moralist should Proceed. 18. The Phi- 
losopher as Moralist. 

Chapter VII. The Aim of Ethics as Science 43 

19. The Appeal to Reason. 20. The Appeal to Reason 
Justified. 

vii 



viii CONTENTS 

PART III 
MAN AND HIS ENVIRONMENT 

PAGE 

Chapter VIII. Man's Nature 51 

21. The Background of Actions. 22. Man's Nature. 

23. How Discover Man's Nature? 

Chapter IX. Man's Material Environment 57 

24. The Struggle with Nature. 25. The Conquests of 
the Mind. 26. The Conquest of Nature and the Well- 
being of Man. 

Chapter X. Man's Social Environment 66 

27. Man is Assigned his Place. 28. Varieties of the Social 
Order. 29. Social Organization. 30. Social Order and 
Human Will. 

PART IV 

THE REALM OF ENDS 

Chapter XI. Impulse, Desire, and Will 77 

31. Impulse. 32. Desire. 33. Desire of the Unattain- 
able. 34. Will. 35. Desire and Will not Identical. 

36. The Will and Deferred Action. 

Chapter XII. The Permanent Will 90 

37. Consciously Chosen Ends. 38. Ends not Consciously 
Chosen. 39. The Choice of Ideals. 

Chapter XIII. The Object in Desire and Will 96 

40. The Object as End to be Realized. 41. Human 
Nature and the Objects Chosen. 42. The Instincts and 
Impulses of Man. 43. The Study of Man's Instincts Im- 
portant. 44. The Bewildering Multiplicity of the Objects 
of Desire, and the Effort to Find an Underlying Unity. 

Chapter XIV. Intention and Motive 105 

45. Complex Ends. 46. Intention. 47. Motive. 

48. Ethical Significance of Intention and Motive. 

Chapter XV. Feeling as Motive 112 

49. Feeling. 50. Feeling and Action. 51. Feeling as 
Object. 52. Freedom as Object. 

Chapter XVI. Rationality and Will 118 

53. The Irrational Will. 54. One View of Reason. 
55. Dominant and Subordinate Desires. 56. The Har- 
monization of Desires. 57. Varieties of Dominant Ends. 



CONTENTS i x 

PAGE 

58. An Objection Answered. 59. This View of Reason 
Misconceived. 60. Another View of Reason. 

PART V 

THE SOCIAL WILL 

Chapter XVII. Characteristics of the Social Will ... 131 
61. What is the Social Will? 62. Social Will and Social 
Habits. 63. Social Will and Social Organization. 64. The 
Social Will and Ideal Ends. 65. The Permanent Social 
Will. 

Chapter XVIII. Expressions of the Social Will 139 

66. Custom. 67. The Ground for the Authority of 
Custom. 68. The Origin and the Persistence of Customs. 
69. Law. 70. Public Opinion. 

Chapter XIX. The Sharers in the Social Will 148 

71. The Community. 72. The Community and the 
Dead. 73. The Community and the Supernatural. 
74. Religion and the Community. 75. The Spread of the 
Community. 

PART VI 
THE REAL SOCIAL WILL 

Chapter XX. The Imperfect Social Will 159 

76. The Apparent and the Real Social Will. 77. The Will 
of the Majority. 78. Ignorance and Error and the Social 
Will. 79. Heedlessness and the Social Will. 80. Rational 
Elements in the Irrational Will. 81. The Social Will and 
the Selfishness of the Individual. 

Chapter XXI. The Rational Social Will 169 

82. Reasonable Ends. 83. An Objection Answered. 
84. Reasonable Social Ends. 85. The Ethics of Reason. 

86. The Development of Civilization. 

Chapter XXII. The Individual and the Social Will. 179 

87. Man's Multiple Allegiance. 88. The Appeal to 
Reason. 89. The Ethics of Reason and the Varying 
Moral Codes. 

PART VII 

THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

Chapter XXIII. Intuitionism . . h 187 

90. What is it? 91. Varieties of Intuitionism. 92. Argu- 



x CONTENTS 

PAGE 

ments for Intuitionism. 93. Arguments against Intui- 
tionism. 94. The Value of Moral Intuitions. 

Chapter XXIV. Egoism 203 

95. What is Egoism? 96. Crass Egoisms. 97. Equivocal 
Egoism? 98. What is Meant by the Self? 99. Egoism 
and the Broader Self. 100. Egoism not Unavoidable. 
101. Varieties of Egoism. 102. The Arguments for 
Egoism. 103. The Argument against Egoism. 104. The 
Moralist's Interest in Egoism. 

Chapter XXV. Utilitarianism . r. 220 

105. What is Utilitarianism? 106. Bentham's Doctrine. 
107. The Doctrine of J. S. Mill. 108. The Argument for 
Utilitarianism. 109. The Distribution of Happiness. 
110. The Calculus of Pleasures. 111. The Difficulties 
of Other Schools. 112. Summary of Arguments for 
Utilitarianism. 113. Arguments against Utilitarian- 
ism. 114. Transfigured Utilitarianism. 

Chapter XXVI. Nature, Perfection, Self-realization 243 
I. Nature 
115. Human Nature as Accepted Standard. 116. Hu- 
man Nature and the Law of Nature. 117. Vagueness 
of the Law of Nature. 118. The Appeal to Nature and 
Intuitionism. 

II. Perfection 

119. Perfection and Type. 120. More and Less Perfect 
Types. 121. Perfectionism and Intuitionism. 

III. Self-realization 
122. The Self-realization Doctrine. 123. The Doctrine 
Akin to that of Following Nature. 124. Is the Doctrine 
More Egoistic? 125. Why Aim to Realize Capacities? 
126. The Problem of Self-sacrifice. 127. Self-satisfaction 
and Self-sacrifice. 128. Can Moral Self-sacrifice be a 
Duty? 129. Self-sacrifice and the Identity of Selves. 

130. Questions which Seem to be Left Open. 

Chapter XXVII. The Ethics of Evolution 266 

131. The Significance of the Title. 132. Evolution and 
the Schools of the Moralists. 133. The Ethics of Indi- 
vidual Evolutionists. 

Chapter XXVIII. Pessimism 274 

134. The Philosophy of the Pessimist. 135. Comment 
on the Ethics of Pessimism. 



CONTENTS xi 

PAGE 

Chapter XXIX. Kant, Hegel and Nietzsche 279 

136. Kant. 137. Hegel. 138. Nietzsche. 

PART VIII 
THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

Chapter XXX. Aspects of the Ethics of Reason 289 

139. The Doctrine Supported by the Other Schools. 

140. Its Method of Approach to Problems. 141. Its 
Solution of Certain Difficulties. 142. The Cultivation of 
Our Capacities. 

Chapter XXXI. The Moral Law and Moral Ideals.. 298 
143. Duties and Virtues. 144. The Negative Aspect of 
the Moral Law. 145. How Can One Know the Moral 
Law? 

Chapter XXXII. The Moral Concepts 303 

146. Good and Bad; Right and Wrong. 147. Duty and 
Obligation. 148. Reward and Punishment. 149. Virtues 
and Vices. 150. Conscience. 

Chapter XXXIII. The Ethics of the Individual 313 

151. What is Meant by the Term? 152. The Virtues of 
the Individual. 153. Conventional Morality. 

Chapter XXXIV. The Ethics of the State 319 

154. The Aim of the State. 155. Its Origin and Authority. 
156. Forms of Organization. 157. The Laws of the State. 

158. The Rights and Duties of the State. 

Chapter XXXV. International Ethics 330 

159. What is Meant by the Term. 160. Our Method of 
Approach to the Subject. 161. Some Problems of Inter- 
national Ethics. 162. The Other Side of the Shield. 
163. The Solution. 164. The Necessity for Caution. 

Chapter XXXVI. Ethics and Other Disciplines 343 

165. Sciences that Concern the Moralist. 166. Ethics 
and Philosophy. 167. Ethics and Religion. 168. Ethics 
and Belief. 169. The Last Word. 

Notes 363 

Index 375 



PART I 

THE ACCEPTED CONTENT 
OF MORALS 



CHAPTER I 
IS THERE AN ACCEPTED CONTENT? 

1. The Point in Dispute. — Is there an accepted con- 
tent of morals? Can we use the expression without 
going on to ask: Accepted where, when, and by whom? 

To be sure, certain eminent moralists have inclined to 
maintain that men are in substantial agreement in re- 
gard to their moral judgments. Joseph Butler, writing 
in the first half of the eighteenth century, came to the con- 
clusion that, however men may dispute about partic- 
ulars, there is an universally acknowledged standard of 
virtue, professed in public in all ages and all countries, 
made a show of by all men, enforced by the primary 
and fundamental laws of all civil constitutions: namely, 
justice, veracity, and regard to common good. 1 Sir 
Leslie Stephen, writing in the latter half of the nineteenth, 
tells us that " in one sense moralists are almost unani- 
mous; in another they are hopelessly discordant. They 
are unanimous in pronouncing certain classes of conduct 
to be right and the opposite wrong. No moralist denies 
that cruelty, falsity and intemperance are vicious, or 
that mercy, truth and temperance are virtuous." 2 

In other words, these writers would teach us that men 
are, on the whole, agreed in approving, explicitly or im- 
plicitly, some standard of conduct sufficiently definite 

1 Dissertation on the Nature of Virtue. 

2 The Science of Ethics, chapter i, § 1. 

3 



4 ACCEPTED CONTENT OF MORALS 

to serve as a code of morals. But that there is such a 
substantial agreement among men has not impressed all 
observers to the same degree. Locke, who wrote before 
Butler, based his arguments against the existence of 
innate moral maxims upon the wide divergencies found 
among various classes of men touching what is right and 
what is wrong. 3 The historian, the anthropologist and 
the sociologist reinforce his reasonings with a wealth of 
illustration not open to the men of an earlier time. They 
present us with codes, not a code; with multitudinous 
standards, not a single standard; with what has been 
accepted here or there, at this time or at that; and we 
may well ask ourselves where, amid this profusion, we 
are to find the one and acceptable code. 

2. What Constitutes Substantial Agreement? — To 
be sure, we may be very generous in our interpretation 
of what constitutes substantial agreement; we may deny 
significance to all sorts of discrepancies by relegating 
them to the unimpressive class of " disputes about partic- 
ulars." Such an impressionistic indifference to detail 
may leave us with something on our hands as little 
serviceable as a composite photograph made from indi- 
vidual objects which have little in common, a blur lack- 
ing all definite outline and not recognizable as any object 
at all. No man can guide his conduct by the common 
core of many or of all moral codes. Taken in its bald 
abstraction, it is not a code or anything like a code. 
Who can walk, without walking in some particular way, 
in some direction, at some time? Who can mind his 
manners without being mannerly in accordance with the 
usages of some race or people? 

3 Essay Concerning Human Understanding, Book I, chapter iii. 



IS THERE AN ACCEPTED CONTENT? 5 

Those who content themselves with enunciating very 
general moral principles may, it is true, be of no little 
service to their fellow-men ; but that is only because their 
fellow-men are able to supply the details that convert 
the blur into a picture. Some twenty-four hundred years 
ago Heraclitus told his contemporaries " to act accord- 
ing to nature with understanding"; we are often told 
today that the rule of our lives should be " to do good." 
Had the ancient Greek not possessed his own notions 
of what might properly be meant by nature and by 
understanding, did we not ourselves have some rather 
definite conception of what actions may properly fall 
under the caption of doing good, such admonitions could 
not lead to the stirring of a finger. Who would appeal 
to his physician for advice as to diet, if he expected 
from him no more than the counsel to eat, at the proper 
hours, enough, but not too much, of suitable food? 

If, then, we confine our admonitions to the group of 
abstractions which constitute the universally acknowl- 
edged standard of virtue when all the individual dif- 
ferences which characterize different codes have been 
ignored, we preach what, taken alone, no man can live 
by, and no community of men has ever attempted to 
live by. If we leave it to our hearers to drape our naked 
abstractions with concrete details, each will set to work 
in a different way. The method of the composite photo- 
graph seems unprofitable in attempting to solve the 
problem of morals. 

3. Dogmatic Assumption. — There is, however, a 
second way by which the variations which characterize 
different codes may come to be relegated to a position 
of relative insignificance. We may assume that our 



6 ACCEPTED CONTENT OF MORALS 

own code is the ultimate standard by which all others 
are to be judged, and we may set down deviations from it 
to the account of the ignorance or the perversity of our 
fellowmen. So regarded, they are aberrations from the 
normal and only true code of conduct; interesting, per- 
haps, but little enlightening, for they can have little 
bearing upon our conceptions of what we ought to do. 

A presumption against this arbitrary assumption that 
we have the one and only desirable code is suggested by 
the unthinking acceptance of the traditional by those 
who are lacking in enlightenment and in the capacity for 
reflection. Is it not significant that a contact with 
new ways of thinking has a tendency, at least, to make 
men broaden their horizon and to revise some of their 
views? 

In other fields, we hope to attain to a capacity for 
self-criticism. We expect to learn from other men. 
Why should we, in the sphere of morals, lay claim to 
the possession of the truth, the whole truth, and nothing 
but the truth ? Why should we refuse to learn from 
anyone? Such a position seems unreasoning. It puts 
moral judgments beyond the pale of argument and in- 
telligent discussion. It is an assumption of infallibility 
little in harmony with the spirit of science. The fact 
that a given standard of conduct is in harmony with our 
traditions, habits of thought, and emotional responses, 
does not prove to other men that it is, not one of a num- 
ber of accepted codes, but in a quite peculiar sense 
acceptable, a thing to put in a class by itself — the class 
into which each mother puts her own child, as over 
against other children. 

Moreover, such an unreasoned assumption of superi- 



IS THERE AN ACCEPTED CONTENT ? 7 

ority must make one little sympathetic in one's attitude 
toward the moral life of other peoples. Into the sig- 
nificance of their social organization, of their customs, 
their laws, one can gain no insight. Their hopes, their 
fears, their strivings, their successes and their failures, 
their approval and disapproval of their fellows, their 
peace of conscience and their remorse, must leave us 
cold and aloof. 

It is not profitable for us to assume at the outset that 
the differences exhibited in the moral judgments of in- 
dividuals or of peoples are of minor significance. They 
are facts to be dealt with in the light of some theory. 
An ethical theory which ignores them must rest upon 
a narrow and insecure foundation. It is exposed to 
assault from many quarters. It may, in default of better 
means of defence, be compelled to take refuge behind 
the blind wall of dogmatic assertion. On the other 
hand, a theory which gives them frank recognition, and 
strives to exhibit their real significance in the life of the 
individual and of the race, may be able to show lying 
among them the golden cord of reason which saves them 
from the charge of being incoherent facts. It may even 
lead us back to a conservatism no longer unreasoning, 
but rationally defensible and conscious of its proper 
limits. The blindly conservative man seems to be faced 
with the alternative of stagnation or revolution. The 
rationally conservative may regard the development of 
the moral life as a Pilgrim's Progress, not without its 
untoward accidents, but, in spite of them, a gradual ad- 
vance toward a desirable goal. 



CHAPTER II 
THE CODES OF COMMUNITIES 

4. The Codes of Communities : Justice. — In view of 
the existing tendency in the average man, and even in 
some philosophers, to pass lightly over the diversities ex- 
hibited by different codes, it is well to cast a brief pre- 
liminary glance at the content of morals as accepted, 
both by communities of men, and by their more reflective 
spokesmen, the moralists. Let us first take a look at 
the codes of communities. 

We have seen that Butler viewed justice, veracity and 
regard to common good as virtues accepted among men 
everywhere. But we may also see, if we look into his 
pages, that he neglected to point out that there may be 
the widest divergencies in men's notions of what consti- 
tutes justice, veracity and common good. And men 
differ widely on the score of the degree of emphasis to 
be laid upon their observance. 

Take justice. Where men possess a code, written or 
unwritten, that may properly be called moral, we expect 
of them the judgment that guilt should be punished. 
But what shall be accounted guilt? What shall be the 
measure of retribution? Who shall be fixed upon as 
guilty? 

As to what constitutes guilt. We have only to remind 
ourselves that the Dyak head-hunter is not condemned 

8 



THE CODES OF COMMUNITIES 9 

by his fellows, but is admired ; x that the fattening and 
eating of a slave may, in a given primitive community, 
be accounted no crime ; 2 that infanticide has been most 
widely approved, and that not merely in primitive com- 
munities, for Greece and Rome, when they were far 
from primitive, practiced certain forms of it with a view 
to the good of the state ; 3 that the holding of a fellow- 
creature in bondage, and exploiting him for one's own 
advantage, even under the lash, was, until recently, not 
a crime in the eye of the law even in the most civilized 
states. On the other hand, it may be a crime to eat 
a female opossum. 4 The impressive imperative: Thou 
shalt not! appears to bear unmistakable reference to 
time and circumstance. 

And what is the natural and proper measure of punish- 
ment? The ancient and primitive rule of an eye for an 
eye and a tooth for a tooth suggests the figure of the 
scales, the impartially meting out to each man of his due. 
It is obviously a rule that cannot be applied in all cases. 
One cannot take the tooth of a toothless man, or compel 
a thievish beggar to restore fruit which he has eaten. 
We should be horrified were any serious attempt made 
to make the rule the basis of legislation in any civilized 
state today, but men have not always been so fastidious. 
Approximations to it have been incorporated into the 
laws of various peoples. 

But all have modified it to some degree, and the 
modifications have taken many forms — the punishment 
of someone not the criminal, compensation in money or 

1 Westermarck, The Origin and Development of the Moral 
Ideas, London, 1906, I, chapter xiv. 

2 Westermarck, op. cit. II, chapter xlvi. 

8 Ibid., I, chapter xvii. 4 Ibid., I, chapter iv, p. 124. 



10 ACCEPTED CONTENT OF MORALS 

in goods, incarceration, and what not. Nor have the 
modifications been made solely on account of the diffi- 
culty of applying the rule baldly stated. Other in- 
fluences have been at work. 

Thus, in the famous Babylonian code, the man who 
struck out the eye of a patrician lost his own eye in 
return, and his tooth answered for the tooth of an equal — 
but the rule was not made general. 5 In state after state 
it has been found just to treat differently the patrician, 
the plebeian, the slave, the man, the woman, the priest. 
In the very state to which Butler belonged, benefit of 
clergy could be claimed, up to relatively recent times, 
by those who could read. The educated criminal es- 
caped hanging for offences for which his illiterate neigh- 
bor had to swing. 6 

Nor is there any clear concensus of opinion touching 
the question of who shall be selected as the bearer of 
punishment. If a man has injured another unintention- 
ally, shall he be held to make amends? It has seemed 
just to men that he should. 7 That one man should be 
made responsible for the misdeeds of another, under the 
principle of collective responsibilh^, has commended 
itself as just to a multitude of minds. Not merely the 
sins of the fathers, but those of the most distant relations, 
those of neighbors, of fellow-tribesmen, of fellow-citizens, 
have been visited upon those whose sole guilt lay in such 
a connection with the directly guilty parties. This is 
not a sporadic phenomenon. Among the ancient He- 
brews, in Babylonia, in Greece, in the later legislation of 
Rome, in medieval and even in modern Europe, the 

5 Hobhouse, Morals in Evolution, I, chapter iii, § 3; New 
York, 1906. 6 Ibid., § 11. 7 Westermarck, chapter ix. 



THE CODES OF COMMUNITIES 11 

principle of collective responsibility has been accepted 
and has seemed acceptable. Asia, Africa and Oceania 
have cast votes for it. So have the Americas. 8 

5. The Codes of Communities: Veracity. — As to 
veracity: It has undoubtedly been valued to some de- 
gree, and with certain limitations, by tribes and nations 
the most diverse in their degrees of culture. Did men 
never speak the truth they might well never speak at 
all. But to maintain that absolute veracity has at 
all times been greatly valued would be an exaggeration. 
The lie of courtesy, the clever lie, the lie to the stranger, 
have been and still are, in many communities both un- 
civilized and more advanced, not merely condoned, but 
approved. With the defence which has been made of 
the doctrines of mental reservation and pious fraud 
students of church history are familiar. In diplomacy 
and in war today highly civilized nations find decep- 
tions of many sorts profitable to them, nor are such 
generally condemned. 9 

What modern government does not employ secret ser- 
vice agents, and value them in proportion to the degree 
of skill with which they manage to deceive their fellows, 
while limiting the exercise of professional good faith to 
their intercourse with their paymaster? The secret ser- 
vice agent of transparent frankness, who could not bear 
to deceive his neighbor, would not hold his post for a 
day. He would be a subject for Homeric laughter. 

Moreover, if the question may be raised: what consti- 
tutes justice? may one not equally well ask: what con- 

8 Westermarck, I, chapter ii; Dewey and Tufts, Ethics, 
New York, 1919, Part I, chapter ii. 

9 Westermarck, II, chapters xxx and xxxi. 



12 ACCEPTED CONTENT OF MORALS 

stitutes veracity or its opposite? Where does the silence 
of indifference shade into purposed concealment, and the 
latter into what is unequivocally deception? At what 
point does deception blossom out into the unmistakable 
lie? One may take advantage of an accidental mis- 
understanding of what one has said; one may use am- 
biguous language; one may point instead of speaking. 
Between going about with a head of glass, with all one's 
thoughts displayed as in a show-case to every comer, 
and the settled purpose to deceive by the direct verbal 
falsification, there is a long series of intermediate posi- 
tions. The commercial maxim that one is not bound 
to teach the man with whom one is dealing how to conduct 
his business, and the lawyer's dictum that the advocate 
is under no obligation to put himself in the position 
of the judge, obviously, will bear much stretching. 

6. The Codes of Communities: the Common Good. — 
Nor are the facts which confront us less perplexing when 
we turn to that " regard to the common good " which 
Butler finds to be acknowledged and enforced by the 
primary and fundamental laws of all civil constitutions. 
Whether we look at the past or view the present, whether 
we study primitive communities or confine ourselves to 
civilized nations, we see that common good is not, appar- 
ently, conceived as the good of all men, however much 
the words " justice " and " humanity " may be upon men's 
lips. 

Has any modern state as yet succeeded in incorporat- 
ing in its civil constitution such provisions as will ensure 
to all classes of its subjects any considerable share in the 
common good? Slaves and animals, said Aristotle, have 
no share in happiness, nor do they live after their own 



THE CODES OF COMMUNITIES 13 

choice. 10 The pervading unrest of the modern economic 
community is due to the widespread conviction that the 
existing organization of society does not sufficiently make 
for the happiness of all. Some states with a high degree 
of culture have not even made a pretence of having any 
such aim. They have deliberately legislated for the few. 11 
Even where the avowed aim is the common good of 
all, states have assumed that some must be sacrificed 
for others. Certain individuals are selected to die in the 
trenches in the face of the enemy, that others may be 
guaranteed liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Grotius, 
the famous jurist of the seventeenth century, has been 
criticized for holding that a beleaguered town might 
justly deliver up to the enemy a small number of its 
citizens in order to purchase immunity for the rest. How 
far do the cases differ in principle? " Among persons 
variously endowed," wrote Hegel, " inequality must oc- 
cur, and equality would be wrong." 12 Commonwealths 
of many degrees of development have recognized inequal- 
ities of many sorts, and have treated their subjects accord- 
ingly. 

10 Politics, iii, 9. 

11 The " citizens " of the ancient Greek state were a privi- 
leged class who legislated in their own interest. Let the reader 
look into Plato's Lavjs and Aristotle's Politics and see how 
inconceivable the cultivated Greek found what is now the ideal 
of a modern democracy. " Citizens " should own landed property, 
and work it by slaves, barbarians and servants. They should 
not be " ignoble " mechanics or petty traders. Compare the 
spirit of Froissart's Chronicles, in the Middle Ages. See what 
Bryce (South America, New York, 1918, chapters xi and xv) says 
about the position of the Negro in our Southern states, and of the 
Indians in South American republics. 

12 Hegel, The Philosophy of Right, translated by Dyde, 
London, 1896, p. 56. 



14 ACCEPTED CONTENT OF MORALS 

" For diet," said Bentham with repellent frankness, 
" nothing but self-regarding affection will serve." Benev- 
olence he considered a valuable addition " for a dessert." 
He had in mind the individual, and he did injustice to 
individuals in certain of their relations. But how do 
things look when we turn our attention to the relations 
between states? Does any state actually make it a 
practice to treat its neighbor as itself? Would its citi- 
zens approve of its doing so? 

The Roman was compelled to formulate a jus gentium, 
a law of nations, to deal with those who held, to him, 
a place beyond the pale of law as he knew it. 13 Many 
centuries have elapsed since pagan philosophers taught 
the brotherhood of man, and since Christian divines 
began to preach it with passionate fervor. Yet civilized 
nations today are still seeking to find a modus vivendi, 
which may put an end to strife and enable them to live 
together. The jus gentium, or its modern equivalent, is, 
alas! still in its rudiments. 

To obviate misunderstanding at this point, it is well 
to state that, in adducing all the above facts, I do not 
mean to argue that it is abnormal and an undesirable 
thing that the scales of justice should, at times, be 
weighted in divers ways. I am not maintaining that 
the distribution of common good should proceed upon 
the principle of strict impartiality. What is possible and 
is desirable in this field is not something to be decided 
off-hand. But the facts suffice to illustrate the truth 
that the discrepancies to be found in the codes of differ- 
ent communities can scarcely be dismissed as unimportant 
details. They are something far too significant for that. 

13 See Sir Henry Maine, Ancient Law, chapter iii. 



CHAPTER III 
THE CODES OF THE MORALISTS 

7. The Moralists. — If, from the codes, or the more or 
less vague bodies of opinion, which have characterized 
different communities, we turn to the moralists, we find 
similar food for thought. 

But who are the moralists? Can we put into one 
class those who preach a short-sighted selfishness or a 
calculating egoism and those who urge upon us the 
law of love? Those who recommend a contempt of 
mankind, and those who inculcate a reverence for human- 
ity? Those who incline to leave us to our own devices, 
telling us to listen to conscience, and those who draw up 
for us elaborate sets of rules to guide conduct? The his- 
tories of ethics are rather tolerant in herding together 
sheep and goats. And not without reason. Those whom 
they include have been in a sense the spokesmen of their 
fellows. Their words have found an echo in the souls 
of many. They are concerned with a rule of life, and 
their rule of life, such as it is, rests upon some principle 
which has impressed men as being not wholly unreason- 
able. 

In taking a glance at what they have to offer us, I 
shall not go far afield, and shall exercise a brevity com- 
patible with the purpose of mere illustration. To the 
moralists of ancient Greece, and, to a lesser degree, to 
those of the Roman Empire, to the Christian teachers 

15 



16* ACCEPTED CONTENT OF MORALS 

who succeeded to their heritage in the centuries which 
followed, and to the more or less independent thinkers 
who made their appearance after the Reformation, we 
can trace our ethical pedigree. For our purpose we need 
seek no wider field. Here we may find sufficiently nota- 
ble contrasts of opinion to disturb the dogmatic slum- 
ber of even an inert mind. The most cursory glance 
makes us inclined to accept with some reserve Stephen's 
claim that " the difference between different systems is 
chiefly in the details and special application of gen- 
erally admitted principles. ,, 

8. Epicurean and Stoic. — Thus, Aristippus of Cyrene 
advised men to grasp the pleasure of the moment rather 
than to await the more uncertain pleasure of the future ; 
but he also counselled, for prudential reasons, the avoid- 
ance of a conflict with the laws. Such advice takes 
cognizance of the self-love of the individual, and is not 
self-love reasonable? Nevertheless, such advice might 
be given by a discouraged criminal of a reflective turn 
of mind, on his release from prison, to a comrade not 
yet chastened by incarceration. Epicurus praises tem- 
perance and fortitude, but only as measures of prudence. 
He praises justice, but only in so far as it enables us 
to escape harm, and frees us from that dread of dis- 
covery that haunts the steps of the evil-doer. His more 
specific maxims, do not fall in love with a woman, be- 
come the father of a family, or, generally, go into poli- 
tics, smack strongly of the rule of life recommended to 
Feuillet's hero, Monsieur de Camors, by his worldly-wise 
and cynical father. 

Contrast with these men the Stoics, whose rule of life 
was to follow Nature, and to eschew the pursuit of 



THE CODES OF THE MORALISTS 17 

pleasure. Man's nature, said Epictetus, is social; wrong- 
doing is antisocial; affection is natural. 1 Said Marcus 
Aurelius, it is characteristic of the rational soul for a 
man to love his neighbor. The cautious bachelor imbued 
with Epicurean principles would find strange and dis- 
concerting the Stoic position touching citizenship: "My 
nature is rational and social; and my city and country, 
so far as I am Antoninus, is Rome, but so far as I am a 
man, it is the world. The things then which are useful 
to these cities are alone useful to me." 2 

9. Plato; Aristotle; the Church. — No more famous 
classification of the virtues — those qualities of character 
which it is desirable for a man to have, and which de- 
termine his doing what it is desirable that he should do 
— has ever been drawn up than that offered us by Plato: 
Wisdom, Courage, Temperance and Justice. 3 It is inter- 
esting to lay beside it the longer list drawn up by 
Aristotle, and to compare both with that which com- 
mended itself to the mind of the mediaeval churchman. 

With Aristotle, the virtues are made to include: 4 

Wisdom High-mindedness 

Justice Ambition 

Courage Gentleness 

Temperance Friendliness 

Liberality Truthfulness 

Magnificence Decorous Wit 

1 Discourses, Book I, chapter xxiii — a clever answer to 
Epicurus. 

2 Thoughts, Book VI, 44; translated by George Long. 

3 For Plato's account of the virtues see the Republic, Book 
IV, and the Laws, Book I. 

4 Ethics; I refer the reader to the admirable exposition and 
criticism by Sidgwick, History of Ethics, London, 1896, chapter 



18 ACCEPTED CONTENT OF MORALS 

and it is suggested that, although scarcely a virtue, a 
sense of shame is becoming in youth. 

We find the Christian teachers especially recommend- 
ing: 5 

Obedience Humility 

Patience Alienation from the " World " 

Benevolence Alienation from the " Flesh " 

Purity 

and their lists of the " deadly sins " they select from 
the following: 



Pride 


Envy 


Arrogance 


Vain-Glory 


Anger 


Gloominess 


Gluttony 


Languid Indifference. 


Unchastity 





Could there be a more striking contrast than that be- 
tween the mediaeval code and those of the great Greek 
thinkers? Plato recommended as virtues certain general 
characteristics of character much admired by the Greek 
of his day. Aristotle accepted them and added to them. 
He has painted much more in detail the gifts and graces 
of a well-born and well-situated Greek gentleman as he 
conceived him. The personage would cut a sorry figure 
in the role of a mediaeval saint; the mediaeval saint 
would wear a tarnished halo if endowed with the Aris- 
totelian virtues. 



ii, § § 10-12; compare Zeller, Aristotle and the Earlier Peri- 
patetics, English translation London, 1897, Volume II, chapter xii. 
6 See Sidgwick's sympathetic account of the Churchman'^ 
view of the virtues, loc. cit., chapter iii. 



THE CODES OF THE MORALISTS 19 

The one ideal, the Greek, breathes an air of self-asser- 
tion; the other one of self-abnegation. Benevolence, 
Purity, Humility and Unworldliness are not to be found 
in the former; Justice, Courage and Veracity appear to 
be missing in the latter. Wisdom, insight, has given 
place to the Obedience appropriate to a man clearly 
conscious of a Law, not man-made, to which man feels 
himself to be subject. 

Indeed, the discrepancy between the ideals is such that 
Aristotle's virtuously high-minded man would have been 
conceived by the mediaeval churchman to be living in 
deadly sin, as the very embodiment of pride and arro- 
gance. We find him portrayed as neither seeking nor 
avoiding danger, for there are few things about which he 
cares; as ashamed to accept favors, since that implies 
inferiority ; as sluggish and indifferent except when stim- 
ulated by some great honor to be gained or some great 
work to be performed; as frank, for this is character- 
istic of the man who despises others; as admiring little, 
for nothing is great to him. His pride prevents him from 
harboring resentment, from seeking praise, and from 
praising others. This Nietzschean hero would attract 
attention upon any stage : " The step of the high-minded 
man is slow, his voice deep, and his language stately, 
for he who feels anxiety about few things is not apt to 
be in a hurry; and he who thinks highly of nothing is 
not vehement." 6 

To be sure, virtues not on a given list may be found in, 
or read into, some of the writings of the man who pre- 
sents it. It would be absurd to maintain that the medi- 

6 Ethics, Book IV, chapter iii, 19, translation by R. W. 
Browne, London, 1865. 



20 ACCEPTED CONTENT OF MORALS 

aeval churchman had no regard for justice, courage and 
veracity, as he would define them, or that Plato and 
Aristotle were wholly deaf to the claims of benevolence. 
Nevertheless, the variations in the emphasis laid on 
this virtue or on that, or in the conception of what con- 
stitutes this virtue or that, may yield ideals of charac- 
ter and of conduct which bear but a slight family 
resemblance. Imagine St. Francis of Assisi lowering 
his voice, slowing his step, and cultivating " high- 
mindedness," or striving to make himself a pattern of 
decorous wit. 

10. Later Lists of the Virtues. — The codes proposed 
by the moralists of a later time are numerous and widely 
scattering. It is impossible to do justice to them in any 
brief compass. A very few instances, selected from 
among those most familiar to English readers, must suf- 
fice to indicate the diversity of their nature. 

Hobbes, 7 deeply concerned to discover some modus 
vivendi which should put a check upon strife between 
man and his fellow-man, and save us from a life " soli- 
tary, poor, nasty, brutish and short," recommends among 
other virtues: 

Justice 

Equity 

Requital of benefits 

Sociability 

A moderate degree of forgiveness 

The avoidance of pride and arrogance. 

Locke, 8 who believes that moral principles must be 

7 Leviathan, chapter xv. 

8 Essay, Book IV, chapter iii, § 18; Of Civil Government, 
Book II, chapter ii. 



THE CODES OF THE MORALISTS 21 

intuitively evident to one who contemplates the nature 
of God and the relations of men to Him and to each 
other, thinks it worth while to set down such random 
maxims as: 

No government allows absolute liberty. 

Where there is no property there is no injustice. 

All men are originally equal. 

Men ought not to harm one another. 

Parents have a right to control their children. 

Hume, 9 whose two classes of virtues comprise the qual- 
ities immediately agreeable or useful to ourselves and 
those immediately agreeable or useful to others, offers 
us an extended list. He puts into the first class: 



Discretion 


Temperance 


Caution 


Sobriety 


Enterprise 


Patience 


Industry 


Perseverance 


Frugality 


Considerateness 


Economy 


Secrecy 


Good Sense, etc. 


Order, etc. 


second class he includes: 




Benevolence 


Politeness 


Justice 


Wit 


Veracity 


Modesty 


Fidelity 


Cleanliness. 



Manifestly, the lists may be indefinitely prolonged. 
Why not add to the first class the pachydermatous 

9 An Enquiry Concerning the Principles of Morals, § 6, Part I. 



22 ACCEPTED CONTENT OF MORALS 

indifference to rebuffs which is of such service to the 
social climber, and, to the second, taste in dress and the 
habit of not repeating stories? 

Thomas Reid lays stress upon the deliverances of the 
individual conscience, when consulted in a quiet hour. 
Nevertheless he proposes five fundamental maxims: 10 

We ought to exercise a rational self-love, and prefer a 
greater to a lesser good. 

We should follow nature, as revealed in the consti- 
tution of man. 

We should exercise benevolence. 

Right and wrong are the same for all in the same 
circumstances. 

We should venerate and obey God. 

With such writers we may contrast the Utilitarians 
and the adherents of the doctrine of Self-realization, 11 
who lay little stress upon lists of virtues or duties, but 
aim, respectively, at the greatest happiness of the great- 
est number, and at the harmonious development of the 
faculties of man, regarding as virtues such qualities of 
character as make for the attainment, in the long run, of 
the one or the other of these ends. 

11. The Stretching of Moral Concepts. — The in- 
stances given suffice to show that the moralists speak 
with a variety of tongues. The code of one age is apt 
to seem strange and foreign to the men of another. 
Even where there is apparent agreement, a closer scru- 
tiny often reveals that it has been attained by a process 

10 On the Active Powers of Man, Essay V, chapter i. 

11 These will be discussed below, chapters xxv and xxvi. 



THE CODES OF THE MORALISTS 23 

of stretching conceptions. Take for example the so- 
called " cardinal " virtues 12 dwelt upon by Plato. The 
Stoics, who made use of his list, changed its spirit. 
Cicero stretches justice so as to make it cover a watery 
benevolence. St. Augustine finds the cardinal virtues 
to be different aspects of Love to God. The great scho- 
lastic philosopher of the thirteenth century, St. Thomas, 
places in the first rank the Christian graces of Faith, 
Hope and Charity, but still finds it convenient to use 
the Platonic scheme in ordering a list of the self-regarding 
virtues taken from Aristotle. Thus may the pillars of 
a pagan temple be utilized as structural units in, or 
embellishments of, a Christian church. 

Our own age reveals the same tendency. Thomas 
Hill Green, the Oxford professor, follows Plato. But 
with him we find wisdom stretched to cover artistic 
creation; we see that courage and temperance have 
taken on new faces; and justice appears to be able to 
gather under its wings both benevolence and veracity. 13 
A still wider divergence from the original understanding 
of the cardinal virtues is that of Dewey, who conceives 
of them as " traits essential to all morality." He treats, 
under temperance, of purity and reverence; he makes 
courage synonymous with persistent vigor; he extends 
justice so as to include love and sympathy; he transforms 
wisdom into conscientiousness. 14 

12 From car do, a hinge. These virtues were supposed to be 
fundamental. The name given to them was first used by 
Ambrose in the fourth century a.d. See Sidgwick, History of 
Ethics, chap, ii, p. 44. 

13 Prolegomena to Ethics, Book III, chapter iii, and Book IV, 
chapter v. 

14 Dewey and Tufts, Ethics, pp. 404-423. 



24 ACCEPTED CONTENT OF MORALS 

This variation in the content of moral concepts may 
be illustrated from any quarter in the field of ethics. 
Cicero's circumspect " benevolence " advances the doc- 
trine that " whatever one can give without suffering 
loss should be given even to an entire stranger." Among 
such obligations he reckons: to prohibit no one from 
drinking at a stream of running water; to permit any- 
one who wishes to light fire from fire; to give faithful 
advice to one who is in doubt ; which things, as he naively 
remarks, " are useful to the receiver and do no harm 
to the giver." 15 

Compare with this the admonition to love one's neigh- 
bor as oneself; Sidgwick's " self-evident " proposition that 
" I ought not to prefer my own lesser good to the greater 
good of another;" 16 Bentham's utilitarian formula, 
" everybody to count for one, and nobody for more than 
one." The admonition, " be benevolent," may mean 
many things. 

12. The Reflective Mind and the Moral Codes. — 
Even the cursory glance we have given above to the 
moral codes of different communities and those pro- 
posed by individual moralists must suffice to bring any 
thoughtful man to the consciousness that they differ 
widely among themselves, and that the differences can 
scarcely be dismissed as insignificant. A little reflec- 
tion will suffice to convince him, furthermore, that to 
treat all other codes as if they were mere pathological 
variations from his own is indefensibly dogmatic. 

On the other hand, the differences between codes should 
not be unduly emphasized. The core of identity is there, 

15 De Officiis, Book I, chapter xvi. 

16 The Methods oj Ethics, Book III, chapter xiii, § 3. 



THE CODES OF THE MORALISTS 25 

and, although in its bald abstractness it is not 
enough to live by, it is vastly significant, nevertheless. 
If there were not some congruity in the materials, they 
would never be brought together as the subject of one 
science. Unless " good," " right," " obligation," " ap- 
proval," etc., or the rudimentary conceptions which fore- 
shadow them in the mind of the most primitive human 
beings, had a core of identity which could be traced in 
societies the most diverse, there would be no significance 
in speaking of the enlightened morality of one people 
and the degraded and undeveloped morality of another. 
There could be no history of the development of the 
moral ideas. Collections of disparate and disconnected 
facts do not constitute a science, nor are they the proper 
subject of a history. 

As a matter of fact, we all do speak of degraded moral 
conceptions, of a perverted conscience, of a lofty moral- 
ity, of a fine sense of duty; we do not hesitate to com- 
pare, i. e., to treat as similar and yet dissimilar, the 
customs, laws and ethical maxims of different ages and 
of different races. This means that we have in our 
minds some standard, perhaps consciously formulated, 
perhaps dimly apprehended, according to which we rate 
them. The unreflective man is in danger of taking as 
this standard his own actual code, such as it is; of 
accepting, together with such elements of reason as it 
may contain, the whole mass of his inherited or acquired 
prejudices; the more reflective man will strive to be 
more rationally critical. 



PART II 
ETHICS AS SCIENCE 



CHAPTER IV 
THE AWAKENING TO REFLECTION 

13. The Dogmatism of the Natural Man. — In morals 
and in politics it seems natural for man to be dogmatic, 
to take a position without hesitation, to defend it ve- 
hemently, to maintain that others are in the wrong. 

This is not surprising. We are born into a moral en- 
vironment as into an all-embracing atmosphere. From 
the cradle to the grave, we walk with our heads in 
a cloud of exhortations and prohibitions. From our 
earliest years we have been urged to make decisions 
and to act, and we have been furnished with general 
maxims to guide our action. When, therefore, we ap- 
proach the solution of a moral problem, we do not, as a 
rule, acutely feel our fitness to solve it, even though we 
may be judged quite unfit by others. 

This unruffled confidence in one's possession of an 
adequate supply of indubitable moral truth may be found 
in men who differ widely in their degree of intelligence 
and in the extent of their information. Some individuals 
seem born to it. We may come upon it in the ethical 
philosopher; we may meet it in the man of science, 
who knows that it has taken him a quarter of a century 
to fit himself to be an authority in matters chemical 
or physical, but who wanders in his hours of leisure into 
the field of ethics and has no hesitation in proposing 

29 



30 ETHICS AS SCIENCE 

radical reforms. But it is more natural to look for the 
unwavering confidence which knows no questionings 
among persons of restricted outlook, who have been 
brought into contact with but one set of opinions. It 
is characteristic of the child, of the uncultivated classes 
in all communities, of whole communities primitive in 
their culture and relatively unenlightened. 

14. The Awakening. — Manifestly, even the beginnings 
of ethical science are an impossibility where such a 
spirit prevails. Where there are no doubts, no question- 
ings, there can be no attempt at rational construction. 

Fortunately for the cause of human enlightenment 
there are forces at work which tend to arouse men from 
this state of lethargy. Horizons are broadened, new 
ideas make their appearance, there is a conflict of author- 
ities, the birth of a doubt, and, finally, a more or less 
articulate appeal to Reason. 

Even a child is capable of seeing that paternal and 
maternal injunctions and reactions are not wholly alike, 
and it sets them off against each other. Nor have all 
the children in the home precisely the same nature. One 
is temperamentally frank and open, but unsympathetic; 
another is affectionate, and prone to lying as the sparks 
fly upward. The virtues and vices are not spontaneously 
arranged in the same order of importance by children, 
and differences of opinion may arise. Nor does it take 
the child long to discover that the law of its own home 
is not identical with that of the house next door. At 
school the experience is repeated on a larger scale; many 
homes are represented, and, besides that, two codes of 
law claim allegiance,, the code of the schoolboy and that 
of the master. They may be by no means in accord. 



THE AWAKENING TO REFLECTION 31 

And when, in college, the student for the first time 
seriously addresses himself to the task of the study of 
ethics as science, he comes to it by no means wholly 
unprepared. He has had rather a broad experience of 
the contrasts which obtain between different codes. He 
is familiar with the code of the home, of the school, of 
the social class, of the religious community, of the civil 
community. There sit on the same benches with him 
the sensitively conscientious student who doubts whether 
it is a permissible deception of one's neighbor to apply 
a patch to an old garment so skillfully that it will escape 
detection; the sporting character who takes it to be the 
mutual understanding among men that truth shall not 
be demanded of those who deal in horses and dogs; the 
youth from Texas who claims that the French philos- 
opher, Janet, cannot be an authority on morals, since he 
asserts that he who cheats at cards must feel a burning 
shame. With the ethics of the ancient Hebrews, of the 
Greeks, of the Romans, our young moralist has had the 
opportunity to acquire some familiarity, and he can 
compare them, if he will, with the Christian ethics of 
his own day. He knows something of history and biogra- 
phy ; he has read books of travel, and has some acquaint- 
ance with the manners and customs of other peoples. 
Were he given to reflection, it ought not to surprise him to 
find a Portuguese sea-cook maintaining that it is wrong 
to steal, except from the rich; or to learn that a Wahabee 
saint rated the smoking of tobacco as the worst possible 
sin next to idolatry, while maintaining that murder, 
robbery, and such like, were peccadilloes which a merciful 
God might properly overlook. 

Material for reflection he has in abundance — and he 



32 ETHICS AS SCIENCE 

often remains relatively dogmatic and unplagued by 
doubt. But only relatively so; and only so long as the 
claims of conflicting authorities are not forced upon 
his attention, rendered importunate in the light of dis- 
cussion, made so familiar as to seem real and substan- 
tial. It is the tendency of the widening of the horizon 
to arouse men to reflection, to stimulate to criticism. 
From such criticism the science of ethics has its birth. 

What is true of the individual is true of men in the 
mass. The blind life of social classes long laid in chains 
by custom and tradition may come to be illuminated 
by new ideas, and passive acquiescence may give way 
to active participation in social endeavor. Nor can 
primitive peoples remain wholly primitive except in 
isolation. With the increased intercourse between races 
and peoples, men are brought to a clear consciousness 
that the accepted in morals is manifold and diverse; 
the next step is to question whether it is, in any given 
instance, of unquestionable authority; thus do men be- 
come ripe for the search for the acceptable. 



CHAPTER V 
ETHICAL METHOD 

15. Inductive and Deductive Method. — Professor 
Henry Sidgwick has denned a method of ethics as "any- 
rational procedure by which we determine what is right 
for individual human beings to do, or to seek to realize 
by voluntary action." x 

He points out that many methods are natural and are 
habitually used, but claims that only one can be rational. 
By which he means that the several methods of determin- 
ing right conduct urged by the different schools of the 
moralists must be reconciled, or all but one must be 
rejected. 2 

In this chapter I shall not discuss in detail the schools 
of the moralists and the specific methods which charac- 
terize them. I am here concerned only with the general 
distinction between the scientific methods of deduction 
and induction, and its bearing upon ethical investiga- 
tions. 

How do we discover that, in an isosceles triangle, the 
sides which subtend the equal angles are equal? We do 
not go about collecting the opinions of individuals upon 
the subject, nor do we consult the records of other peo- 
ples, past or present. We do not measure a great number 

1 The Methods of Ethics, Book I, chapter i, § 1. 

2 Ibid., chapter i, § 3. 

33 



34 ETHICS AS SCIENCE 

of triangles and arrive at our conclusion after a calcu- 
lation of the probable error of our measurements. The 
appeal to authorities does not interest us ; that measure- 
ments are always more or less inaccurate, and that all 
actual triangles are more or less irregular, we freely 
admit, but we do not regard such facts as significant. 
We use a single triangle as an illustration, and from what 
is given in, or along with, that individual instance, we 
deduce certain consequences in which we have the high- 
est confidence. Here we follow the method of deduction. 
We accept a "given," with its validity we do not concern 
ourselves; our aim is the discovery of what may be 
gotten out of it. 

In the inductive sciences the individual instance has 
an importance of quite a different sort. It is not a mere 
illustration, unequivocally embodying a general truth 
to which we may appeal directly, treating the instance 
as a mere vehicle, in itself of little significance. Indi- 
vidual instances are observed and compared; uniformi- 
ties are searched for; it is sought to establish general 
truths, not directly evident, but whose authority rests 
upon the particular facts that have been observed and 
classified. 

It is a commonplace of logic that both induction and 
deduction may be employed in many fields of science. 
We may attain by inductive inquiry to more or less 
general truths, which we no longer care to call in ques- 
tion, and which we accept as a " given," to be exploited 
and carried out in its consequences. Indeed, we need 
not betake ourselves to science to have an illustration of 
this method of procedure. In everyday life men have 
maxims by which they judge of the probable actions 



ETHICAL METHOD 35 

of their fellow-men and in the light of which they direct 
their dealings with them. Such maxims as that men 
may be counted upon to consult their own interests have 
certainly not been adopted independently of an experi- 
ence of what, on particular occasions, men have shown 
themselves to be. But, once adopted, they may be 
treated as, for practical purposes, unquestionable; men 
are concerned to apply them, not to substantiate them. 
In so far, men reason from them deductively and pass 
from the general rule to the particular instance. 

16. The Authority of the " Given." — Obviously the 
" given," in the sense indicated, may possess, in certain 
cases, a very high degree of authority, and, in others, a 
very low degree. 

In the case of the mathematical truth referred to above, 
men do not, in fact, find it necessary to call in question 
the " given," though they may be divided in their notions 
touching the general nature of mathematical evidence 
and whence it draws its apparently indisputable author- 
ity. In certain of the inductive sciences, as in mechanics, 
physics and chemistry, generalizations have been attained 
in which even the critical repose much confidence. In 
other fields men are constantly making general state- 
ments which are promptly contradicted by their fellows, 
and are drawing from them inferences the justice of 
which is in many quarters disallowed. There are axioms 
and axioms, maxims and maxims. The confidence felt 
by a given individual in a particular " given " does not 
guarantee its acceptance by all men of equal intelligence. 
Where, however, the evidence upon which a disputed 
" given " is based is forthcoming, there is, at least, ground 
for rational discussion. 



36 ETHICS AS SCIENCE 

Not a few famous writers have treated moral truths 
as analogous to mathematical. 3 To take here a single 
instance. Sidgwick, in his truly admirable work on 
" The Methods of Ethics," maintains 4 that " the prop- 
ositions, ' I ought not to prefer a present lesser good to 
a future greater good/ and ' I ought not to prefer my 
own lesser good to the greater good of another/ do 
present themselves as self-evident; as much {e.g.) as the 
mathematical axiom that l if equals be added to equals 
the wholes are equals/ " 

But it is one thing to claim that we are in possession 
of a " given " with ultimate and indisputable authority ; 
it is another to convince men that we really do possess 
it. Locke's efforts at deduction fall lamentably short 
of the model set by Euclid. " Professor Sidgwick's well- 
known moral axiom, ' I ought not to prefer my own lesser 
good to the greater good of another/ would/' writes 
Westermarck, 5 " if explained to a Fuegian or a Hotten- 
tot, be regarded by him, not as self-evident, but as sim- 
ply absurd; nor can it claim general acceptance even 
among ourselves. Who is that ' Another ' to whose 
greater good I ought not to prefer my own lesser good? 
A fellow-countryman, a savage, a criminal, a bird, a 
fish — all without distinction?" To Bentham's " every- 
body to count for one and nobody for more than one " 
may be opposed Hartley's preference of benevolent and 
religious persons to the rest of mankind. 6 

The fact that men eminent for their intellectual abil- 

3 See the chapter on " Intuitionism," § 90, note. 

4 Book III, chapter xiii, § 3. 

6 Op. cit., Volume I, chapter i, p. 12. 

6 Observations on Man, Part II, chapter iii, 6. 



ETHICAL METHOD 37 

ity and for the breadth of their information are, in 
morals, inclined to accept, as ultimate, principles not 
identical, and thus to found different schools, would 
seem to indicate that, to one who aims at treating ethics 
as a science, principles, as well as the deductions from 
them, should be objects of closest scrutiny. They should 
not be taken for granted. The history of ethical theory 
appears to make it clear that the " given " of the moral- 
ist is not of the same nature as that of the geometer. 
The ethical philosopher cannot, hence, confine himself 
to developing deductively the implications of some prin- 
ciple or principles assumed without critical examination. 
He must establish the validity even of his principles. 
This we should bear in mind when we approach the 
study of the different ethical schools. 



CHAPTER VI 

THE MATERIALS OF ETHICS 

17. How the Moralist Should Proceed. — The above 
reflections on method suggest the materials of which 
the moralist should avail himself in rearing the edifice 
of his science. 

(1) Evidently he should reflect upon the moral judg- 
ments which he finds in himself, the moral being with 
whom he is best acquainted. He should endeavor to ren- 
der consistent and luminous moral judgments which, as 
he finds, have too often been inconsistent and more or less 
blind. 

(2) He should take cognizance of his own setting — 
of the social conscience embodied in the community in 
which he lives. 

(3) And since, as we have seen, the significance, 
either of the individual conscience, or of the social con- 
science revealed in custom, law and public opinion, can 
hardly become apparent to one who does not bring within 
his horizon many consciences individual and social, he 
should enlarge his view so as to include such. The 
moralists, in our day, show an increasing tendency to 
pay serious attention to this mass of materials. They 
do not confine their attention to the moral standard 
which this man or that has accepted as authoritative for 
him, nor to that accepted as authoritative in a given com- 

38 



THE MATERIALS OF ETHICS 39 

munity. They study man — man in all stages of his 
development and in material and social settings the 
most diverse. 

(4) Nor should the student of ethics overlook the 
work which has been done by those moralists who have 
gone before him. He who has studied descriptive anat- 
omy is aware of the immense service which has been 
done him by the unwearied observations of his predeces- 
sors; observations which have been put on record, and 
which draw his attention to numberless details of struc- 
ture that would, without such aid, certainly escape his 
attention. Ethics is an ancient discipline. It has fixed 
the attention of acute minds for many centuries. He 
who approaches the subject naively, without an acquaint- 
ance with the many ethical theories which have been 
advanced and the acute criticisms to which they have 
been subjected, will almost certainly say what someone 
has said before, and said, perhaps, much better. The 
valor of ignorance will involve him in ignominious defeat. 

(5) It is evident that the moralist must make use 
of materials offered him by workers in many other fields 
of science. The biologist may have valuable sugges- 
tions to make touching the impulses and instincts of man. 
The psychologist treats of the same, and exhibits the 
work of the intellect in ordering and organizing the im- 
pulses. He studies the phenomena of desire, will, habit, 
the formation of character. The anthropologist and the 
sociologist are concerned with the codes of communities 
and with the laws of social development. The fields 
of economics, politics and comparative jurisprudence 
obviously march with that cultivated by the student 
of ethics. 



40 ETHICS AS SCIENCE 

18. The Philosopher as Moralist. — In all these 
sciences at once it is not possible for the moralist to be 
an adept. The mass of the material they furnish is so 
vast that the ethical writer who starts out to master 
it in all its details may well dread that he may be over- 
come by senility before he is ready to undertake the 
formulation of an ethical theory. 

It does not follow, however, that he should leave to 
those who occupy themselves professionally with any of 
these fields the task of framing a theory of morals. He 
must have sufficient information to be able to select with 
intelligence what has some important bearing upon the 
problem of conduct, but there are many details into 
which he need not go. It is well to note the following 
points: 

(1) A multitude of details may be illustrative of a 
comparatively small number of general principles. It 
is with these general principles that the moralist is 
concerned. The anthropologist may regard it as his 
duty to spend much labor in the attempt to discover 
why this or that act, this or that article of food, happens 
in a given community to be taboo to certain persons. 
The student of ethics is not bound to take up the de- 
tailed investigation of such matters. Human nature, in 
its general constitution, is much the same in different 
races and peoples. The influence of environment is every- 
where apparent. There are significant uniformities to 
be discovered even by one who has a limited amount of 
detailed information. " Those who come after us will 
see nothing new," said Antoninus, " nor have those be- 
fore us seen anything more, but in a manner he who is 
forty years old, if he has any understanding at all, has 



THE MATERIALS OF ETHICS 41 

seen by virtue of the uniformity which prevails all things 
which have been and all that will be." x Which is, to be 
sure, an overstatement of the case, but one containing a 
germ of truth. 

(2) We find, by looking into their books, that men 
most intimately acquainted with the facts of the moral 
life as revealed in different races and peoples may differ 
widely in the ethical doctrine which they are inclined 
to base upon them. Not all men, even when endowed with 
no little learning, are gifted with the clearness of vision 
which can detect the significance of given facts; nor are 
all equally capable of weaving relevant facts into a con- 
sistent and reasonable theory. The keenness and the 
constructive genius of the individual count for much. 
And breadth of view counts for much also. We have 
seen that ethics touches many fields of investigation, and 
the philosopher is supposed, at least, to let his vision 
range over a broad realm, and to grasp the relations of 
the different sciences to each other. He is, moreover, 
supposed to be trained in reflective analysis, and of this 
ethical theory appears to stand in no little need. 

(3) Finally, the mere fact that ethics has for so 
many centuries been regarded as one of the disciplines 
falling within the domain of the philosopher is not with- 
out its significance. One may deplore the tendency to 
base ethics upon this or that metaphysical doctrine, and 
desire to see it made an independent science; and yet 
one may be compelled to admit that it is not easy to 
comprehend and to estimate the value of many of the 
ethical theories which have been evolved in the past, 

1 Thoughts, XI, 1. London, 1891, translated by George Long. 



42 ETHICS AS SCIENCE 

without having rather an intimate acquaintance with 
the history of philosophy. The ethical teachings of Plato, 
of Aristotle, of St. Thomas, of Kant, of Hegel, of Green, 
lose much of their meaning when taken out of their 
setting. The history of ethical theory is blind when 
divorced from the history of philosophy, and with the 
history of ethical theory the moralist should be ac- 
quainted. 

The philosopher has no prescriptive right to preempt 
the field of ethics. Many men may cultivate it with 
profit. Nevertheless, he, too, should cultivate it, not 
independently and with a disregard of what has been 
done by others, but in a spirit of hearty cooperation, 
thankfully accepting such help as is offered him by 
his neighbors. 



CHAPTER VII 
THE AIM OF ETHICS AS SCIENCE 

19. The Appeal to Reason. — The proper aim of the 
scientific study of ethics appears to be suggested with 
sufficient clearness by what has been said in the chapters 
on the accepted content of morals. 

Where individuals take up unreflectively the maxims 
which are to control their conduct, human life can 
scarcely be said to be under the guidance of reason. 
Where, moreover, the codes of individuals clash with 
each other or with the social conscience of their com- 
munity, and where the codes of different communities 
are disconcertingly diverse, planful concerted action with 
a view to the control of conduct appears to be imprac- 
ticable. Historical accident, blind impulse and caprice, 
cannot serve as guides for a rational creature seeking 
to live, along with others, a rational life. 

" The aim of ethics," says Sidgwick, 1 " is to render 
scientific — i.e., true, and as far as possible systematic 
— the apparent cognitions that most men have of the 
Tightness or reasonableness of conduct, whether the con- 
duct be considered as right in itself, or as the means 
to some end conceived as ultimately reasonable." The 
use here of the word " cognitions " calls our attention 
to the fact that, when men say, " this is right, that is 

1 The Methods of Ethics, Book I, chapter vi, § 1. 

43 



44 ETHICS AS SCIENCE 

wrong," they mean no more than, " this I like, that 
I do not like"; and the use of the word " apparent " 
indicates that the judgments expressed may be approved 
by the man who makes them, and yet be erroneous. The 
appeal is to an objective standard; there is a demand 
for proof. 

That most men recognize, in some cases dimly, in some 
cases clearly and explicitly, that the appeal to such a 
standard is justifiable, can scarcely be denied. Between 
" I choose " and " I ought to choose," between " the 
community demands," and " the community ought to 
demand," men generally recognize a distinction when 
they have attained to a capacity for reflection. 

It has, however, been denied that the appeal is justi- 
fiable, and denied by no mean authority. " The pre- 
sumed objectivity of moral judgments," writes Wester- 
marck, 2 " being a chimera, there can be no moral truth 
in the sense in which this term is generally understood. 
The ultimate reason for this is, that the moral concepts 
are based upon emotions, and that the contents of an 
emotion fall entirely outside the category of truth. But 
it may be true or not that we have a certain emotion, 
it may be true or not that a given mode of conduct 
has a tendency to evoke in us moral indignation or 
moral approval. Hence a moral judgment is true or 
false according as its subject has or has not that ten- 
dency which the predicate attributes to it. If I say 
that it is wrong to resist evil, and yet resistance to evil 
has no tendency whatever to call forth in me an emotion 

2 The Origin and Development oj the Moral Ideas, chapter i, 
p. 17. 



AIM OF ETHICS AS SCIENCE 45 

of moral disapproval, then my judgment is false." The 
conclusion drawn from this is that there are no general 
moral truths, and that " the object of scientific ethics 
cannot be to fix rules for human conduct"; it can only 
be " to study the moral consciousness as a fact." 

20. The Appeal to Reason Justified. — The words of 
so high an authority should not be passed over lightly. 
One is impelled to seek for their proper appreciation 
and their reconciliation with the judgment of other moral- 
ists. Such can be found, I think, by turning to two truths 
dwelt upon in what has preceded: the truth that the 
moralist should not assume that he is possessed of a 
" given " analogous to that of the geometer — a standard 
in no need of criticism; and the equally important truth 
that the moralist cannot hope to frame a code which w T ill 
simply replace the codes of individual communities and 
will prescribe the details of human conduct while ig- 
noring such codes altogether. 

But it does not seem to follow that, because the 
moralist may not set up an arbitrary code of this sort, 
he is also forbidden to criticize and compare moral 
judgments, to arrange existing codes in a certain order 
as lower and higher, to frame some notion of what con- 
stitutes progress. He may hold before himself, in out- 
line, at least, an ideal of conduct, and not one taken 
up arbitrarily but based upon the phenomena of the 
moral consciousness as he has observed them. And in 
the light of this ideal he may judge of conduct; his 
appeal is to an objective standard. 

Thus, he who says that it is false that it is right to 
reduce to slavery prisoners taken in war may, if he be 
sufficiently unreflective, have no better reason for his 



46 ETHICS AS SCIENCE 

judgment than a feeling of repugnance to such con- 
duct. But, if he has risen to the point of taking broad 
views of men and their moral codes, he may very well 
assert the falsity of the statement even when he feels 
no personal repugnance to the holding of certain persons 
as slaves. His appeal is, in fact, to such a standard as 
is above indicated, and his condemnation of certain forms 
of conduct is based upon their incompatibility with it. 
Hence, a man may significantly assert that certain con- 
duct is objectively desirable, although it may not be 
desired by himself or by his community. He may judge 
a thing to be wrong without feeling it to be wrong. 
Whether anything would actually be judged to be wrong, 
if no one ever had any emotions, is a different question. 
With it we may class the question whether anything 
would be judged to be wrong if no one were possessed of 
even a spark of reason. There is small choice between 
having nothing to see and not being able to see anything. 3 

3 That, in the citation above given, Westermarck's attention 
was concentrated upon the extreme position taken by some 
moralists touching the function of the reason in moral judg- 
ments seems to me evident. He is far too able an observer to 
overlook the significance of the diversity of moral codes and 
the meaning of progress. He writes: "Though rooted in the 
emotional side of our nature, our moral opinions are in a large 
measure amenable to reason. Now in every society the tradi- 
tional notions as to what is good or bad, obligatory or indifferent, 
are commonly accepted by the majority of people without further 
reflection. By tracing them to their source it will be found that 
not a few of these notions have their origin in sentimental likings 
and antipathies, to which a scrutinizing and enlightened judge 
can attach little importance; whilst, on the other hand, he must 
account blamable many an act and omission which public 
opinion, out of thoughtlessness, treats with indifference." Vol. I, 
pp. 2-3. See also his appeals to reason where it is a question of 



AIM OF ETHICS AS SCIENCE 47 

An appeal, thus, from the actual to the ideal appears 
to be possible. And, since the natural man, unenlight- 
ened and unreflective, is not more inclined to show him- 
self to be a reasonable being in the sphere of morals than 
elsewhere, it seems that there is no little need of ethical 
science. Its aim is to bring about the needed enlight- 
enment. Its value can only be logically denied by 
those who maintain seriously that it is easy to know 
what it is right to do. Do men really hold this, if 
they are thoughtful? 



the attitude of the community toward legal responsibility on 
the part of the young, toward drunkenness, and toward the 
heedless production of offspring doomed to misery and disease, 
pp. 269 and 310. 



PART III 
MAN AND HIS ENVIRONMENT 



CHAPTER VIII 
MAN'S NATURE 

21. The Background of Actions. — In estimating 
human actions we take into consideration both the doer 
and the circumstances under which the deed was done. 
Actions may be desirable or undesirable, good or bad, ac- 
cording to their setting. How shall we judge of the 
blow that takes away human life? It may be the invol- 
untary reaction of a man startled by a shock; it may 
be a motion of justifiable self-defence; it may be one 
struck at the command of a superior and in the defence 
of one's country; it may be the horrid outcome of cruel 
rapacity or base malevolence. 

Nor are the emotions, torn out of their context, more 
significant than actions without a background. They 
are mental phenomena to be observed and described by 
the psychologist; to the moralist they are, taken alone, 
as unmeaning as the letters of the alphabet, but, like 
them, capable in combination of carrying many mean- 
ings. Anger, fear, wonder, and all the rest are, as 
natural emotions, neither good nor bad; they are colors, 
which may enter into a picture and in it acquire vari- 
ous values. 

In morals, when men have attained to the stage of 
enlightenment at which moral estimation is a possible 
process, they always consider emotions, intentions, and 

51 



52 MAN AND HIS ENVIRONMENT 

actions in the light of their background. We do not 
demand a moral life of the brutes; we do not look for 
it in the intellectually defective and the emotionally 
insane; nor do we expect a savage caught in the bush 
to harbor the same emotions, or to have the same ethical 
outlook, as the missionary with whom we may confront 
him. The concepts of moral responsibility, of desert, of 
guilt, are emptied of all significance, when we lose sight 
of the nature, inborn or acquired, of the creature haled 
before the bar of our judgment, and of the environment, 
which on the one hand, impels him to action, and, on 
the other, furnishes the stage upon which the drama of 
his life must be played out to the end. 

Hence, he who would not act as the creature of blind 
impulse or as the unthinking slave of tradition, but 
would exercise a conscious and intelligent control over 
his conduct, seems compelled to look at his life and 
its setting in a broad way, to scrutinize with care both 
the nature of man and the environment without which 
that nature could find no expression. When he does 
this, he only does more intelligently what men generally 
do instinctively and somewhat at haphazard. He seeks 
a rational estimate of the significance of conduct, and 
a standard by which it may be measured. 

22. Man's Nature. — Moralists ancient and modern 
have had a good deal to say about the nature of man. 
To some of them it has seemed rather a simple thing 
to describe it. Its constitution, as they have conceived 
it, has furnished them with certain principles which 
should guide human action. Aristotle, who assumed 
that every man seeks his own good, conceived of his 
good or " well-being " as largely identical with " well- 



MAN'S NATURE 53 

doing." This " well-doing " meant to him " fulfilling 
the proper functions of man," or in other words act- 
ing as the nature of man prescribes. 1 To the Stoic 
man's duty was action in accordance with his nature. 2 
Butler, 3 many centuries later, found in man's nature a 
certain " constitution," with conscience naturally su- 
preme and the passions in a position of subordination. 
This " constitution " plainly indicated to him the con- 
duct appropriate to a human being. 

Such appeals to man's nature we are apt to listen to 
with a good deal of sympathy. Manifestly, man dif- 
fers from the brutes, and they differ, in their kind, from 
each other. To each kind, a life of a certain sort seems 
appropriate. The rational being is expected to act ration- 
ally, to some degree, at least. In our dealings with 
creatures on a lower plane, we pitch our expectations 
much lower. 

And the behavior we expect from each is that appropri- 
ate to its kind. The bee and the ant follow unswerv- 
ingly their own law, and live their own complicated 
community life. However the behavior of the brute 
may vary in the presence of varying conditions, the 
degree of the variation seems to be determined by rather 
narrow limits. These we recognize as the limits of 
the nature of the creature. It dictates to itself, uncon- 
sciously, its own law of action, and it follows that law 
simply and without revolt. 

When we turn to man, " the crown and glory of the 
universe," as Darwin calls him, we find him, too, en- 

1 Politics, i, 2. See, further, on Man's Nature, chapter xxvi. 

2 Marcus Aurelius, Thoughts, v, 1. 

3 Sermons on Human Nature, ii. 



54 MAN AND HIS ENVIRONMENT 

dowed with a certain nature in an analogous sense of the 
word. He has capacities for which we look in vain 
elsewhere. The type of conduct we expect of him has 
its root in these capacities. Human nature can definitely 
be expected to express itself in a human life, — one lower 
or higher, but, in every case, distinguishable from the 
life of the brute. It means something to speak of the 
physical and mental constitution of man, that mysteri- 
ous reservoir from which his emotions and actions are 
supposed to flow. We feel that we have a right to use 
the expression, even while admitting' that the brain 
of man is, as far as psychology is concerned, almost 
unexplored territory, and that the relation of mind to 
brain is, and is long likely to remain, a subject of dis- 
pute with philosophers and psychologists. 

23. How Discover Man's Nature? — Nevertheless, in 
speaking of the nature of any living creature, we are 
forced to remind ourselves that the original endowment 
of the creature studied can never be isolated and sub- 
jected to inspection independently of the setting in which 
the subject of our study is found. Who, by an exami- 
nation of the brain of a bee or of an ant, could foresee 
the intricate organized industry of the hive or the ant- 
hill? The seven ages of man are not stored ready-made 
in the little body of the infant. At any rate, they are 
beyond the reach of the most penetrating vision. In 
the case of the simple mechanisms which can be con- 
structed by man a forecast of future function is possible 
on the basis of a general knowledge of mechanics. But 
there is no living being of whose internal constitution 
we have a similar knowledge. From the behavior of 
the creature we gather a knowledge of its nature; we 



MAN'S NATURE 55 

do not start with its nature as directly revealed and 
infer its behavior. That there are differences in the 
internal constitution of beings which react to the same 
environment in different ways, we have every reason 
to believe. What those differences are in detail we 
cannot know. And our knowledge of the capacities 
inherent in this or that constitution will be limited by 
what we can observe of its reaction to environment. 

Sometimes the reaction to environment is relatively 
simple and uniform. In this case we feel that we can 
attain without great difficulty to what may be regarded 
as a satisfactory knowledge of the nature of the crea- 
ture studied. The conception of that nature appears 
to be rather definite and unequivocal. When it is once 
attained, we speak with some assurance of the way in 
which the creature will act in this situation or in that. 
If, however, the capacities are vastly more ample, and 
the environment to which this creature is adjusted is 
greatly extended, the difficulty of describing in any 
unequivocal way the nature of the creature becomes 
indefinitely greater. 

Is it possible to contemplate man without being struck 
with the breadth and depth of the gulf which separates 
the primitive human being from the finished product of 
civilization? What a difference in range of emotion, in 
reach of intellect, in stored information, in freedom of 
action, between man at his lowest and man at his high- 
est! Can we describe in the same terms what is natural 
to man everywhere and always? 

For the filthy and ignorant savage, absorbed in satis- 
fying his immediate bodily needs, standing in the sim- 
plest of social relations, taking literally no thought for 



56 MAN AND HIS ENVIRONMENT 

the morrow, profoundly ignorant of the world in which 
he finds himself, possessing over nature no control worthy 
of the name, the sport and slave of his environment, it is 
natural to act in one way. For enlightened humanity, 
acquainted with the past and forecasting the future, de- 
veloped in intellect and refined in feeling, rich in the 
possession of arts and sciences, intelligently controlling 
and directing the forces of nature, socially organized in 
highly complicated ways, it is natural to act in another 
way. And to each of the intermediate stages in the evo- 
lution of civilization some type of conduct appears to 
be appropriate and natural. 

Whither, then, shall we turn for our conception of 
man's nature? Shall we merely draw up a list of the 
instincts and impulses which may be observable in all 
men? Shall we say no more than that man is gifted 
with an intelligence superior to that of the brutes? To 
do this is, to be sure, to give some vague indication of 
man's original endowment. But it can give us little indi- 
cation of what it is possible for man, with such an en- 
dowment, and in such an environment as makes his 
setting, to become. And what man becomes, that he is. 

If man's nature can be revealed only through the 
development of his capacities, it is futile to seek it in a 
return to undeveloped man. The nature of the chicken 
is not best revealed in the egg. And, as man can develop 
only in interaction with his environment, we must, to 
understand him, study his environment also. 



CHAPTER IX 
MAN'S MATERIAL ENVIRONMENT 

24. The Struggle with Nature. — It is not possible to 
disentangle from each other and to consider quite sep- 
arately the diverse elements which enter into the en- 
vironment of man and which influence his development. 
His environment is two-fold, material and social; but 
his material setting may affect his social relations, and 
it is social man, not the individual as such, that achieves 
a conquest over nature. However, it is possible, and 
it is convenient, to direct attention successively upon 
the one and the other aspect of his environment. 

At every stage of his development, man must have 
food, shelter, some means of defense. If they are not 
easily obtainable, he must strain every nerve to attain 
them. Are his powers feeble and his intelligence unde- 
veloped, it may tax all his efforts to keep himself alive 
and to continue the race in any fashion. The rules 
which determine his conduct seem rather the dictates 
of a stern necessity than the products of anything re- 
sembling free choice. 

He who is lashed by hunger and haunted by fear, 
who cannot provide for the remote future, but must 
accept good or ill fortune as the accident of the day 
precipitates his lot upon him, lives and must live a 
life at but one remove from that of the brute. In such a 

57 



58 MAN AND HIS ENVIRONMENT 

life the instincts of man attain to a certain expression, 
but intelligence plays a feeble part. The man remains 
a slave, under dictation, and moved by the dread of 
immediate disaster. For an interest in what is remote 
in time and place, for the extension of knowledge for 
its own sake, for the development of activities which 
have no direct bearing upon the problem of keeping him 
alive and fed, there can be little place. One must be 
assured that one can live, and live in reasonable security 
and physical well-being, before the problem of enriching 
and embellishing life can fairly present itself as an 
important problem. One must be set free before one 
can deliberately set out to shape one's life after an 
ideal. 

Not that a severe struggle with physical nature is 
necessarily and of itself a curse. It may call out man's 
powers, stimulate to action, and result in growth and 
development. Where a prodigal nature amply provides 
for man's bodily necessities without much effort on his 
part, the result may be, in the absence of other stimu- 
lating influences giving rise to new wants, a paralyzing 
slothfulness, an animal passivity and content. This 
may be observed in whole peoples highly favored by 
soil and climate, and protected by their situation from 
external dangers. It may be observed in certain favored 
classes even in communities which, by long and strenu- 
ous effort, have conquered nature and raised themselves 
high in the scale of civilization. The idle sons of the 
rich, relieved from the spur of necessity, may undergo 
the degeneration appropriate to parasitic life. In the 
midst of a strenuous activity adapted to call out the best 
intellectual and moral powers of man, they may remain 



MAN'S MATERIAL ENVIRONMENT 59 

unaffected by it, incapable of effort, unintelligent, sloth- 
ful, the weak and passive recipients of what is brought 
to them by the labor of others. 

But the struggle with physical nature, sometimes a 
spur to progress and issuing in triumph, may also issue 
in defeat. Nature may be too strong for man, or, at 
least, for man at an early stage of his development. She 
may thwart his efforts and dwarf his life. It was through 
no accident that the Athenian state rose and flourished 
upon the shores of the Aegean; no such efflorescence of 
civilization could be looked for among the Esquimaux 
of the frozen North. 

25. The Conquests of the Mind. — Physical environ- 
ment counts for much, but the physical environment 
of man is the same as that of the creatures below him 
who seem incapable of progress. It is as an intelligent 
being that he succeeds in bringing about ever new and 
more complicated adjustments to his environment. 

From the point of view of his animal life in many 
respects inferior to other creatures — less strong, less 
swift, less adequately provided with natural means of 
defense, less protected by nature against cold, heat and 
the inclemencies of the weather, endowed with instincts 
less unerring, less prolific, through a long period of in- 
fancy helpless and dependent — man nevertheless sur- 
vives and prospers. 

He has conquered the strong, overtaken the swift, 
called upon his ingenuity to furnish him with means of 
defence. He has defied cold and heat, and we find him, 
with appliances of his own devising, successfully com- 
bating the rigors of Arctic frosts and the torrid sun 
of the tropics. Intelligence has supplemented instinct 



60 MAN AND HIS ENVIRONMENT 

and has guaranteed the survival of the individual and 
of the race. 

It has even protected man against himself, against 
the very dangers arising out of his immunity from other 
dangers. A gregarious creature, increasing and multi- 
plying, he would be threatened with starvation did not 
his intelligent control over nature furnish him with a 
food-supply which makes it possible for vast numbers 
of human beings to live and thrive on a territory of 
limited extent. Moreover, he has compassed those com- 
plicated forms of social organization which reveal them- 
selves in cities and states, solving problems of production, 
transportation and distribution before which undeveloped 
man would stand helpless. 

And from the problem of living at all he has passed 
to that of living well. He has created new wants and 
has satisfied them. He has built up for himself a rich 
and diversified life, many of the activities of which ap- 
pear to have the remotest of bearings upon the mere 
struggle for existence, but the exercise of which gives him 
satisfaction. Thus, the primitive instinct of curiosity, 
once relatively aimless and insignificant, has developed 
into the passion for systematic knowledge and the persist- 
ent search for truth; the rudimentary aesthetic feeling 
which is revealed in primitive man, and traces of which are 
recognizable in creatures far lower in the scale, has 
blossomed out in those elaborate creations, which, at an 
enormous expense of labor and ingenuity, have come to 
enrich the domains of literature, music, painting, sculp- 
ture, architecture. Civilized man is to a great extent 
occupied with the production of what he does not need, 
if need be measured by what his wants are at a lower 



MAN'S MATERIAL ENVIRONMENT 61 

stage of his development. But these same things he 
needs imperatively, if we measure his need by his desires 
when they have been multiplied and their scope indefi- 
nitely widened. 

26. The Conquest of Nature and the Well-being of 
Man. — It is evident that the successful exploitation of 
the resources of material nature is of enormous signifi- 
cance to the life of man. It may bring emancipation; 
it offers opportunity. One is tempted to affirm, without 
stopping to reflect, that the development of the arts and 
sciences, the increase of wealth and of knowledge, must 
in the nature of things increase human happiness. 

One is tempted, further, to maintain that an advance 
in civilization must imply an advance in moralization. 
Man has a moral nature which exhibits itself to some 
degree at every stage of his development. What more 
natural to conclude than that, with the progressive un- 
folding of his intelligence, with increase in knowledge, 
with some relaxation of the struggle for existence which 
pits man against his fellow-man, and subordinates all 
other considerations to the inexorable law of self-pres- 
ervation, his moral nature would have the opportunity to 
show itself in a fuller measure? 

When we compare man at his very lowest with man 
at his highest such judgments appear to be justified. 
But man is to be found at all sorts of intermediate stages. 

His knowledge may be limited, the development of the 
arts not far advanced, his control over nature far from 
complete, and yet he may live in comparative security 
and with such wants as he has reasonably well satisfied. 
His competition with his fellows may not be bitter and 
absorbing. The simple life is not necessarily an unhappy 



62 MAN AND HIS ENVIRONMENT 

life, if the simplicity which characterizes it be not too 
extreme. In judging broadly of the significance for 
human life of the control over nature which is implied 
in the advance of civilization, one must take into con- 
sideration several points of capital importance: 

(1) The multiplication of man's wants results, not in 
happiness, but in unhappiness, unless the satisfaction 
of those wants can be adequately provided for. 

(2) The effort to satisfy the new wants which have 
been called into being may be accompanied by an enor- 
mous expenditure of effort. Where the effort is excessive 
man becomes again the slave of his environment. His 
task is set for him, and he fulfills it under the lash of 
an imperious necessity. The higher standard may be- 
come as inexorable a task-master as was the lower. 

(3) It does not follow that, because a given commu- 
nity is set free from the bondage of the daily anxiety 
touching the problem of living at all, and may address 
itself deliberately to the problem of living well, it will 
necessarily take up into its ideal of what constitutes 
living well all those goods upon w r hich developed man is 
apt to set a value. A civilization may be a grossly 
material one, even when endowed with no little wealth. 
With wealth comes the opportunity for the development 
of the arts w T hich embellish life, but that opportunity 
may not be embraced. Man may be materially rich and 
spiritually poor; he may allow some of his faculties to lie 
dormant, and may lose the enjoyments which would have 
been his had they been developed. The Athenian citi- 
zen two millenniums ago had no such mastery over the 
forces of nature as we possess today. Nevertheless, he 
was enabled to live a many-sided life beside which the 



MAN'S MATERIAL ENVIRONMENT 63 

life of the modern man may appear poor and bare. It 
is by no means self-evident that the good of man consists 
in the multitude of the material things which he can 
compel to his service. 

(4) Moreover, it does not follow that, because the 
sum of man's activities, his behavior, broadly taken, is 
vastly altered by an increase in his control over his 
material environment, the result is an advance in moral- 
ization. An advance in civilization — in knowledge, in 
the control over nature's resources, in the evolution of 
the industrial and even of the fine arts — does not nec- 
essarily imply a corresponding ethical advance on the 
part of a given community. New conditions, brought 
about by an increase of knowledge, of wealth, of power, 
may result in ethical degeneration. 

What constitutes the moral in human behavior, what 
marks out right or wrong conduct from conduct ethically 
indifferent, we have not yet considered. But no man 
is wholly without information in the field of morals, 
and we may here fall back upon such conceptions as 
men generally possess before they have evolved a sci- 
ence of morals. In the light of such conceptions a simple 
and comparatively undeveloped culture may compare 
very favorably with one much higher in the scale of 
civilization. 

In the simplest groups of human beings, justice, ve- 
racity and a regard to common good may be conspicuous ; 
the claim of each man upon his fellow-man may be 
generally acknowledged. In communities more advanced, 
the growth of class distinctions and the inequalities due 
to the amassing of wealth on the part of individuals 
may go far to nullify the advantage to the individual 



64 MAN AND HIS ENVIRONMENT 

of any advance made by the community as a whole. 
The social bonds which have obtained between members 
of the same group may be relaxed; the devotion to the 
common good may be replaced by the selfish calculation 
of profit to the individual; the exploitation of man by 
his fellow-man may be accepted as natural and normal. 
It is not without its significance that the most highly 
civilized of states have, under the pressure of economic 
advance, come to adopt the institution of slavery in its 
most degraded forms; that the problem of property 
and poverty may present itself as most pressing and 
most difficult of solution where national wealth has 
grown to enormous proportions. The body politic may 
be most prosperous from a material point of view, and 
at the same time, considered from the point of view of 
the moralist, thoroughly rotten in its constitution. 

It is well to remember that, even in the most advanced 
of modern civilizations, whatever the degree of enlighten- 
ment and the power enjoyed by the community as a 
whole, it is quite possible for the individual to be con- 
demned to a life little different in essentials from that 
of the lowest savage. He whose feverish existence is 
devoted to the nerve-racking occupation of gambling in 
stocks, who goes to his bed at night scheming how he 
may with impunity exploit his fellow-man, and who 
rises in the morning with a strained consciousness of 
possible fluctuations in the market which may over- 
whelm him in irretrievable disaster, lives in perils which 
easily bear comparison with those which threaten the 
precarious existence of primitive man. To masses of 
men in civilized communities the problem of the food 
supply is all-absorbing, and may exclude all other and 



MAN'S MATERIAL ENVIRONMENT 65 

broader interests. The factory-worker, with a mind stu- 
pefied by the mechanical repetition of some few simple 
physical movements of no possible interest to him except 
as resulting in the wage that keeps him alive, has no 
share in such light as may be scattered about him. 

The control of the forces of nature brings about great 
changes in human societies, but it may leave the individ- 
ual, whether rich or poor, a prey to dangers and 
anxieties, engaged in an unequal combat with his en- 
vironment, absorbed in the satisfaction of material needs, 
undeveloped, unreflective and most restricted in his out- 
look. Of emancipation there can here be no question. 

And a civilization in which the control of the forces 
of nature has been carried to the highest pitch of devel- 
opment may furnish a background to the darkest of 
passions. It may serve as a stage upon which callous 
indifference, greed, rapacity, gross sensuality, play their 
parts naked and unashamed. That some men sunk in 
ignorance and subject to such passions live in huts and 
have their noses pierced, and others have taken up from 
their environment the habit of dining in evening dress, 
is to the moralist a relatively insignificant detail. He 
looks at the man, and he finds him in each case essen- 
tially the same — a primitive and undeveloped creature 
who has not come into his rightful heritage. 



CHAPTER X 
MAN'S SOCIAL ENVIRONMENT 

27. Man is Assigned his Place. — The old fable of a 
social contract, by virtue of which man becomes a mem- 
ber of a society, agreeing to renounce certain rights he 
might exercise if wholly independent, and to receive in 
exchange legal rights which guarantee to the individual 
the protection of life and property and the manifold 
advantages to be derived from cooperative effort, points 
a moral, like other fables. 

The contract in question never had an existence, but 
neither did the conversation between the grasshopper 
and the ant. In each case, a truth is illustrated by a 
play of the imagination. Contracts there have been in 
plenty, between individuals, between families, between 
social classes, between nations; but they have all been 
contracts between men already in a social state of some 
sort, capable of choice and merely desirous of modify- 
ing in some particular some aspect of that social state. 
The notion of an original contract, lying at the base of 
all association of man with man, is no more than a 
fiction which serves to illustrate the truth that the desires 
and wills of men are a significant factor in determining 
the particular forms under which that association re- 
veals itself. 

No man enters into a contract to be born, or to be borD 

66 



MAN'S SOCIAL ENVIRONMENT 67 

a Kaffir, a Malay, a Hindoo, an Englishman or an Amer- 
ican. He enters the world without his own consent, and 
without his own connivance he is assigned a place in a 
social state of some sort. The reception which is ac- 
corded to him is of the utmost moment to him. He may 
be rejected utterly by the social forces presiding over 
his birth. In which case he does not start life independ- 
ently, but is snuffed out as is a candle-flame by the 
wind. And if accepted, as he usually is in civilized 
communities, he takes his place in the definite social 
order into which he is born, and becomes the subject of 
education and training as a member of that particular 
community. 

28. Varieties of the Social Order. — The social order 
into which he is thus ushered may be most varied in 
character. He may find himself a member of a small 
and primitive group of human beings, a family standing 
in more or less loose relations to a limited number of 
other families ; he may belong to a clan in which family 
relationship still serves as a real or Active bond; his 
clan may have its place in a confederation; or the body 
politic in which he is a unit may be a nation, or an 
empire including many nationalities. 

His relations to his fellow-man will naturally present 
themselves to him in a different light according to the 
different nature of the social environment in which he 
finds himself. The community of feeling and of interests 
which defines rights, determines expectations, and pre- 
scribes duties, cannot be the same under differing con- 
ditions. Social life implies cooperation, but the limits 
of possible cooperation are very differently estimated 
by man at different stages of his development. To a few 



68 MAN AND HIS ENVIRONMENT 

human beings each man is bound closely at every stage 
of his evolution. The family bond is everywhere recog- 
nized. But, beyond that, there are wider and looser 
relationships recognized in very diverse degrees, as intel- 
ligence expands, as economic advance and political en- 
lightenment make possible a community life on a larger 
scale, as sympathy becomes less narrow and exclusive. 

It is not easy for a member of a community at a 
given stage of its development even to conceive the 
possibility of such communities as may come into exist- 
ence under widely different conditions. The simple, com- 
munistic savage, limited in his outlook, thinks in terms 
of small numbers. A handful of individuals enjoy mem- 
bership in his group; he recognizes certain relations, 
more or less loose, to other groups, with which his group 
comes into contact; beyond is the stranger, the natural 
enemy, upon whom he has no claim and to whom he 
owes no duty. 

At a higher level there comes into being the state, 
including a greater number of individuals and internally 
organized as the simpler society is not. But even in a 
highly civilized state much the same attitude towards 
different classes of human beings may seem natural and 
inevitable. To Plato there remained the strongly marked 
distinctions between the Athenian, the citizen of another 
Hellenic community, and the barbarian. War, when 
waged against the last, might justifiably be merciless; 
not so, when it was war between Greek states. 1 Into 
such conceptions of rights and duties men are born; they 
take them up with the very air that they breathe, and 

1 Republic, Book V. 



MAN'S SOCIAL ENVIRONMENT 69 

they may never feel impelled to subject them to the test 
of criticism. 

It is instructive to remark that neither the speculative 
genius of a Plato nor the acute intelligence of an Aristotle 
could rise to the conception of an organized, self-govern- 
ing community on a great scale. To each it seemed 
evident that the group proper must remain a compar- 
atively small one. Plato finds it necessary to provide in 
his " Laws " that the number of households in the State 
shall be limited to five thousand and forty. Aristotle, less 
arbitrarily exact, allows a variation within rather broad 
limits, holding that a political community should not 
comprise a number of citizens smaller than ten, nor one 
greater than one hundred thousand. 2 That a highly 
organized state, a state not composed of a horde of 
subjects under autocratic control, but one in which the 
citizens are, in theory, self-governing, should spread 
over half a continent and include a hundred millions 
of souls, would have seemed to these men of genius the 
wildest of dreams. Yet such a dream has been realized. 

29. Social Organization. — The social body of which 
man becomes, by the accident of birth, an involuntary 
member, may stand at any point in the scale of eco- 
nomic evolution. It may be a primitive group living 
from hand to mouth by the chase, by fishing or by 
gathering such food as nature spontaneously produces. 
It may be a pastoral people, more or less nomadic, 
occupied with the care of flocks and herds. It may be 
an agricultural community, rooted to the soil, looking 
forward from seed-time to harvest, capable of foresight 
in storing and distributing the fruits of its labors. It 
2 Plato, Laws, v. Aristotle, Ethics, ix, 10. 



70 MAN AND HIS ENVIRONMENT 

may combine some of the above activities; and may, 
in addition, have arrived at the stage at which the arts 
and crafts have attained to a considerable development. 
In its life commerce may have come to play an impor- 
tant role, bringing it into peaceful relations with other 
communities and broadening the circle of its interests. 

That human societies at such different stages of their 
development should differ greatly in their internal organ- 
ization, in their relations to other communities, and in 
the demands which they make upon the individuals 
who compose them, is to be expected. Some manner 
of life, appropriate to the status of the community, 
comes to be prescribed. The ideal of conduct, whether 
unconsciously admitted or consciously embraced and 
inculcated, is not the same in different societies. The 
virtues which come to be prized, the defects which are 
disapproved, vary with their setting. 

Moreover, the process of inner development results 
in differentiation of function. Clearly marked social 
classes come into existence, standing in more or less 
sharply defined relations to other social classes, en- 
dowed with special rights and called to the performance 
of peculiar duties. 

Man is not merely born into this or that community; 
he is born into a place in the community. In very 
primitive societies that place may differ little from other 
places, save as such are determined by age or sex. But 
in more highly differentiated societies it may differ 
enormously, entail the performance of widely different 
functions, and prescribe distinct varieties of conduct. 

"What will be the manner of life," said Plato, 3 
3 Laws, vii. 



MAN'S SOCIAL ENVIRONMENT 71 

" among men who may be supposed to have their food 
and clothing provided for them in moderation, and who 
have entrusted the practice of the arts to others, and 
whose husbandry, committed to slaves paying a part 
of the produce, brings them a return sufficient for living 
temperately?" 

His ideal leisure class is patterned after what he saw 
before him in Athens. He conceives those who belong to 
it to be set free from sordid cares and physical labors, 
in order that they may devote themselves to the per- 
fecting of their own minds and bodies and to preparation 
for the serious work of supervising and controlling the 
state. Their membership in the class defined their duties 
and prescribed the course of education which should fit 
them to fulfill them. It is not conceived that the func- 
tions natural and proper to one human being are also 
natural and proper to another in the same community. 

The flat monotony which obtains in those simplest 
human societies, resembling extended families, where 
there is scarcely a demarcation of classes, a distinction 
of occupations and a recognition of private property in 
any developed sense, has given place in such a state 
to sharp contrasts in the status of man and man. Such 
contrasts obtain in all modern civilized communities. 
Man is not merely a subject or citizen; he is a subject 
or citizen of this class or of that, and the environment 
which molds him varies accordingly. 

30. Social Order and Human Will. — We have seen 
that the material environment of a man, the extent of 
his mastery over nature and of his emancipation from 
the dictation of pressing bodily needs, is a factor of 
enormous importance in determining what he shall be- 



72 MAN AND HIS ENVIRONMENT 

come and what sort of a life he shall lead. That his 
social setting is equally significant is obvious. What 
he shall know, what habits he shall form, what emotions 
he shall experience in this situation and in that, what 
tasks he shall find set before him, and what ideals he 
shall strive to attain, are largely determined for him 
independently of his choice. 

To be sure, it remains true that man is man, endowed 
with certain instincts and impulses and gifted with 
human intelligence. Nor are all men alike in their im- 
pulses or in the degree of their intelligence. Within 
limits the individual may exercise choice, reacting upon 
and modifying his environment and himself. But a 
moment's reflection reveals to us that the new departure 
is but a step taken from a vantage-ground which has 
not been won by independent effort. The information 
in the light of which he chooses, the situation in the 
face of which he acts, the emotional nature which impels 
him to effort, the habits of thought and action which 
have become part of his being — these are largely due 
to the larger whole of which he finds himself a part. 
He did not build the stage upon which he is to act. His 
lines have been learned from others. He may recite 
them imperfectly; he may modify them in this or in 
that particular. But the drama from which, and from 
which alone, he gains his significance, is not his own 
creation. 

The independence of the individual in the face of 
his material and social environment makes itself more 
apparent with the progressive development of man. But 
man attains his development as a member of society, and 
in the course of a historical evolution. It was pointed 



MAN'S SOCIAL ENVIRONMENT 73 

out many centuries ago that a hand cut off from the 
human body cannot properly be called a hand, for it 
can perform none of the functions of one. And man, 
torn from his setting, can no longer be considered man 
as the proper subject of moral science. 

It is as a thinking and willing creature in a social 
setting that man becomes a moral agent. To understand 
him we must make a study of the individual and of 
the social will. 



PART IV 
THE REALM OF ENDS 



CHAPTER XI 
IMPULSE, DESIRE, AND WILL 

31. Impulse. — Commands and prohibitions address 
themselves to man as a voluntary agent. But it seems 
right to treat as willed by man much more than falls 
under the head of conscious and deliberate volition. We 
do not hesitate to make him responsible for vastly more ; 
and yet common sense does not, when enlightened, regard 
men as responsible for what is recognized as falling 
wholly beyond the direct and indirect control of their 
wills. 

Motions due to even the blindest of impulses are not 
to be confounded with those brought about by external 
compulsion. They may have the appearance of being 
vaguely purposive, although we would never attribute 
purpose to the creature making them. The infant that 
cries and struggles, when tormented by the intrusive 
pin, the worm writhing in the beak of a bird, — these 
act blindly, but it does not appear meaningless to say 
that they act. The impulse is from within. 

Some impulses result in actions very nicely adjusted 
to definite ends. Such are winking, sneezing, swallowing. 
These reflexes may occur as the mechanical response to 
a given stimulus. They may occur without our being 
conscious of them and without our having willed them. 

Yet such responses to stimuli are not necessarily un- 

77 



78 THE REALM OF ENDS 

conscious and cut off from voluntary control. He who 
winks involuntarily when a hand is passed before his 
eyes may become conscious that he has done so, and 
may, if he chooses, even acquire some facility in con- 
trolling the reflex. One may resist the tendency to 
swallow when the throat is dry, may hold back a sneeze, 
or may keep rigid the hand that is pricked by a pin. 
That is to say, actions in their origin mechanical and 
independent of choice may be raised out of their low 
estate, made the objects of attention, and brought within 
the domain of deliberate choice. 

Furthermore, many actions which, at the outset, 
claimed conscious attention and were deliberately willed 
may become so habitual that the doer lapses into uncon- 
sciousness or semi-unconsciousness of his deed. They 
take on the nature of acquired reflexes. The habit of 
acting appears to have been acquired by the mind and 
then turned over to the body, that the mind may be free 
to occupy itself with other activities. The man has 
become less the doer than the spectator of his acts; per- 
haps he is even less than that, he is the stage upon which 
the action makes its appearance, while the spectator is 
his neighbor. The complicated bodily movements called 
into play when one bites one's nails had to be learned. 
It requires no little ingenuity to accomplish the act when 
the nails are short. Yet one may come to the stage of 
perfection at which one bites one's nails when one is 
absorbed in thought about other things. And one may 
learn to slander one's neighbor almost as mechanically 
and unthinkingly as one swallows when the throat is dry. 

When we speak of man's impulses, we are using a 
vague word. There are impulses which will never be 



IMPULSE, DESIRE, AND WILL 79 

anything more. There are impulses which may become 
something more. There are impulses which are no longer 
anything more. Impulses have their psychic aspect. At 
its lower limit, impulse may appear very mechanical; 
at its upper, one may hesitate to say that desire and 
will are wholly absent. It is not wise to regard impulse 
as lying wholly beyond the sphere of will. 

32. Desire. — At its lower limit, desire is not dis- 
tinguished by any sharp line from mere impulse. Is 
the infant that stretches out its hands toward a bright 
object conscious of a desire to possess it? Or does the 
motion made follow the visual sensation as the wail 
follows the wound made by the pin? At a certain stage 
of development the phenomena of desire become unmis- 
takable. The idea of something to be attained, the no- 
tion of means to the attainment of an end, the conscious- 
ness of tension, may stand out clearly. The analysis of 
the psychologist, which finds in desire a consciousness 
of the present state of the self, an idea of a future state, 
and a feeling of tension towards the realization of the 
latter, may represent faithfully the elements present in 
desire in the higher stages of its development, but it 
would be difficult to find those elements clearly marked 
in desire which has just begun to differentiate itself from 
impulse. There may be a desire where there can scarcely 
be said to be a self as an object of consciousness; one 
may desire where there is no clear consciousness of a 
future state as distinct from a present one. 

Moreover, the consciousness of desire may be faint and 
fugitive, as it may be intense and persistent. Desire 
is the step between the first consciousness of the object 
and the voluntary release of energy which works toward 



80 THE REALM OF ENDS 

its attainment. This step may be passed over almost 
unnoticed. The thought of shifting my position when 
I feel uncomfortable may be followed by the act with 
no clear consciousness of a tension and its voluntary 
release. The mere thought, itself but faintly and momen- 
tarily in consciousness, appears to be followed at once 
by the act, and desire and will to be eliminated. It 
does not follow that they are actually eliminated; they 
may be present as fleeting shadows which fail to attract 
attention. 

If, however, the desire fails to find its immediate 
fruition, if it is frustrated, consciousness of it may be- 
come exceedingly intense. There is the constant thought 
of the object, a vivid feeling of tension, of a striving to 
attain the object. Desire may become an obsession, a 
torment filling the horizon, and the volition in which it 
finds its fruition stands forth as a marked relief. This 
condition of things may be brought about by the in- 
hibition occasioned by the physical impossibility of at- 
taining the object; but it may also be brought about 
by the struggle of incompatible desires among themselves. 
The man is drawn in different directions, he is subject 
to various tensions, and he becomes acutely conscious 
that he is impelled to move in several ways and is 
moving in none. 

I have used the word " tension " to describe the psychic 
fact present in desire. I have done so for want of a 
better word. Of the physical basis of desire, of what 
takes place in the brain, we know nothing. With the 
psychic fact, the feeling of agitation and unrest, we are 
all familiar. Of the tendency of desire to discharge 
itself in action we are aware. A desire appears to be 



IMPULSE, DESIRE, AND WILL 81 

an inchoate volition — that which, if ripened success- 
fully and not nipped in the bud, would become a volition. 
It may be looked upon as the first step toward action 
— a step which may or may not be followed by others. 
It does not seem out of place to call it a state of tension, 
of strain, of inclination. In speaking, thus, we use 
physical metaphors, but they do not appear out of place. 

33. Desire of the Unattainable. — But if a desire may 
be regarded as an unripe act of will, an inchoate volition, 
how is it that we can desire the unattainable, a suffi- 
ciently common experience? I may bitterly regret 
some act of my own in the past; I may earnestly wish 
that I had not performed it. But the past is irrevocable. 
Hence, the desire for the attainment of what is in this 
case the object, a different past, can hardly be regarded 
as even a preparatory step toward attainment. 

In this case it can not, and were all desires directed 
upon what is in the nature of the case wholly unattain- 
able by effort, it would occur to no one to speak of desire 
as a first step toward action. But normally and usually 
desires are not of this nature. They usually do consti- 
tute a link in the chain of occurrences which end in 
action. Did they not, they would have little significance 
in the life-history of the creature desiring. With the 
appearance of free ideas, with an extension of the range 
of memory and imagination, objects may be held before 
the mind which are not properly objects to be attained. 
Yet such objects are of the kind which attract or repel, 
i.e., of the kind which men endeavor to realize in 
action. They cannot be realized ; we do not will to realize 
them; but we should will to do so were they realiz- 
able. The psychic factor, the strain, the tension, 



82 THE REALM OF ENDS 

is unmistakably present. Real desire is revealed, and 
common speech, as well as the language of science, rec- 
ognizes the fact. 

This general attraction or repulsion exercised by ob- 
jects, in spite of the fact that the objects may not appear 
to be realizable, is not without significance. The hin- 
drance to realization may be an accidental one; it may 
not be wholly insuperable. The presence of a persistent 
desire may result in persistent effort, which may ulti- 
mately be crowned by success. Or it may show itself 
as a permanent readiness for effort. Were every frus- 
trated desire at once dismissed from consciousness, the 
result would show itself in a passivity detrimental to 
action in general. Where the object is intrinsically an 
impossible one, persistent desire is, of course, futile. The 
dog baying at the cat in the tree is the prey of such 
a desire, but he does not realize it, or he might discontinue 
his inefficacious leaps. The man tormented by his un- 
worthy act in the past is quite aware of the futility 
of his longings. His condition is psychologically ex- 
plicable, but to a rational being, in so far as rational, 
it is not normal. 

Normally, desire is the intermediate step between the 
recognition of an object and the will to attain it. The 
most futile of desires may be harbored. The imaginative 
mind may range over a limitless field, and give itself 
up to desires the most extravagant. But indulgence in 
this habit serves as a check to action serviceable to 
the individual and to the race. As a matter of fact, 
desire is usually for what seems conceivably within 
the limit of possible attainment. The man desires to 
catch a train, to run that he may attain that end; his 



IMPULSE, DESIRE, AND WILL 83 

mind is little occupied with the desire to fly, nor does 
his longing center upon the carpet of Solomon. To the 
desirability of dismissing from the mind futile desires 
current moral maxims bear witness. 

34. Will. — The natural fruition of a desire is, then, 
an act of will; the tension is normally followed by 
that release of energy which makes for the attainment 
of the object or end of the desire. 

The question suggests itself, may there not be present, 
even in blindly impulsive action, something faintly cor- 
responding to desire and will? That there should be an 
object in the sense of something aimed at, held in view 
as an idea to be realized, appears to be out of the ques- 
tion. But may there not be a more or less vague and 
evanescent sense of tension, and some psychic fact which 
may be regarded as the shadowy forerunner of the con- 
sciousness of the release of tension which, on a higher 
plane, reveals itself as the consciousness of will? There 
may be: introspection is not capable of answering the 
question, and one is forced to fall back upon an argument 
from analogy. Blindly impulsive action and action in 
which will indubitably and consciously plays a part are 
not wholly unlike, but they differ by a very wide inter- 
val. The interval is not an empty gap, however, for, 
as we have seen, all volitions do not stand out upon the 
background of our consciousness with the same unmis- 
takable distinctness. There are volitions no one would 
hesitate to call such. And there are phenomena resem- 
bling volition which we more and more doubtfully in- 
clude under that caption as we pass own on the descend- 
ing scale. 

Naturally, in describing desire and volition we do 



84 THE REALM OF ENDS 

not turn to the twilight region where all outlines are 
blurred and indistinct. We fix our attention upon those 
instances in which the phenomena are clearly and 
strongly marked. They are most clearly marked where 
desire does not, at once and unimpeded, discharge itself 
in action, but where action is deferred, and a struggle 
takes place between desires. 

The man is subject to various tensions, he is impelled 
in divers directions, he hesitates, deliberates, and he 
finally makes a decision. During this period of delib- 
eration he is apt to be vividly conscious of desire as 
such — as a tension not yet relieved, as an alternation of 
tensions as the attention occupies itself, first with one 
desirable object, then with another. And the decision, 
which puts an end to the strife, is clearly distinguished 
from the desires as such. 

In the reflective mind, which turns its attention upon 
itself and its own processes, the distinction between 
desire and will seems to be a marked one. But it is 
not merely the developed and reflective mind which is 
the seat of deliberation. The child deliberates between 
satisfying its appetite and avoiding possible punishment ; 
it reaches for the forbidden fruit, and withdraws its 
hand; it wavers, it is moved in one direction as one 
desire becomes predominant, and its action is checked 
as the other gains in ascendency. Deliberation this 
unmistakably is. And deliberation we may observe in 
creatures below the level of man; in the sparrow, hop- 
ping as close as it dares to the hand that sprinkles 
crumbs before it; in the dog, ready to dart away in 
pursuance of his private desires, but restrained by the 
warning voice of his master. This is deliberation. Such 



IMPULSE, DESIRE, AND WILL 85 

deliberation as we find in the developed and enlightened 
human being it is not. That, however, there is present 
even in these humble instances, some psychic fact cor- 
responding to what in the higher mind reveals itself 
as desire and volition, we have no reason to doubt. 

35. Desire and Will not Identical. — I have had oc- 
casion to remark that the modern psychologist draws no 
such sharp line between desire and volition as the psy- 
chologist of an earlier time. That some distinction should 
be drawn seems palpable. It is not without significance 
that immemorial usage sanctions this distinction. The 
ancient Stoic's quarrel was with the desires, not with the 
will. The will was treated as a master endowed with 
rightful authority; the desires were subjects, often in 
rebellion, but justly to be held in subjection. And from 
the days of the Stoic down almost to our own, the will 
has been treated much as though it were an especial 
and distinct faculty of man, not uninfluenced by desire, 
but in no sense to be identified with it, — above it, its 
law-giver, detached, independent, supreme. This tend- 
ency finds its culmination in that impressive modern 
Stoic, Immanuel Kant, who desires to isolate the will, 
and to emancipate it altogether from the influence of 
desire. 

Recently the pendulum has swung in the other direc- 
tion. It has been recognized that will is the natural 
outcome of desire, and that without desire there would 
be no will at all. It has even been maintained that 
will is desire, the desire " with which the self identifies 
itself." 1 

To this last form of expression objection may be made 

1 See, for example, Green, Prolegomena to Ethics, §§ 144-149. 



86 THE REALM OF ENDS 

on the score of its vagueness. What does it mean for 
the self to " identify " itself with a desire? And if 
such an identification is necessary to will, can there 
be volition or anything resembling volition where self- 
consciousness has not yet been developed? It is very 
imperfectly developed in young children, and in the 
lower animals still less developed, if at all; and yet 
we see in them the struggle of desires and the resultant 
decision emerging in action. If we call a volition in 
which consciousness of the self has played its part 
" volition proper," it still remains to inquire how voli- 
tions on a lower plane are to be distinguished from 
mere desires. 

What happens in a typical case of deliberation and 
decision? Two or more objects are before the mind and 
the attention occupies itself with them successively. 
Tensions alternate, wax strong and die away, only to 
recover their strength again. Finally the attention fixes 
upon one object to the exclusion of others, the strife of 
desires come to an end, and there is an inception of 
action in the direction of the realization of that par- 
ticular desire. The desire itself is not to be confounded 
with the decision; the tension, with its release. The 
psychic fact is in the two cases different. The decision 
brings relief from the strain. It cannot properly be 
called a desire, not even a triumphant desire, although 
in it a desire attains a victory and its realization has 
begun. 

Such a victory not all desires, even when most intense 
and prolonged, are able to attain. We have seen that 
the desire for the unattainable may amount to an ob- 
session, and yet it will not ripen into an act of volition. 



IMPULSE, DESIRE, AND WILL 87 

The release of the tension in incipient action does not 
come. The bent bow remains bent. From the sense 
of strain in such a case one may be freed, as one is 
freed from the desires which succumb during the process 
of deliberation, by the occupation of the attention with 
other things. But the desire has been forgotten, not 
satisfied. It may at any time recur in all its strength. 

We cannot more nearly describe the psychic fact 
called decision. Just as we cannot more nearly describe 
the psychic fact to which we have given the name " ten- 
sion." Although the nervous basis of the phenomena 
of desire and will are unknown, we can easily conceive 
that, during desire, and before desire has resulted in 
the release of energy which is the immediate forerunner 
of action, the cerebral occurrence should be different 
from that which is present when that release takes place. 
Nor should it be surprising that the psychical fact cor- 
responding to each should be different. 

The view here set forth does not confuse desire and 
will, making will indistinguishable from desire, or, at 
least, from certain desires. On the other hand, it does 
not separate them, as though they could not be brought 
within the one series of occurrences which may properly 
be regarded as a unit. It has the advantage of making 
comprehensible the mutual relations of impulse, desire, 
and will. Blind impulse discharges itself in action seem- 
ingly without the psychic accompaniments which distin- 
guish desire and will. But all impulse is not blind impulse, 
and desiring and willing admit of many degrees of de- 
velopment. To deny will to creatures lower than man, 
as some writers have done, is to misconceive the nature 
of the process that issues in action. We are tempted 



88 THE REALM OF ENDS 

to do it only when we compare will in its highest mani- 
festations with those rudimentary foreshadowings of 
it which stand at the lower end of the scale. But even 
in man we can discern blind impulse, dimly conscious 
desires which ripen into as dimly recognized decisions, 
and, at the very top of the scale, conscious decisions 
which follow deliberation, and are the resultant of a 
struggle between many desires. 

For ethical science it is of no little importance to 
apprehend clearly the relation of decision to desire. 
Moral rules aim to control human conduct, and conduct 
is the expression of the whole man. If we have no 
clear conception of the desires which struggle for the 
mastery within him, and of the relation of his decisions 
to those desires, in vain will we endeavor to influence 
him in the direction in which we wish him to move. 

36. The Will and Deferred Action. — It remains to 
speak briefly of one point touching the nature of will. 
It has been suggested that the decision is the psychic fact 
corresponding to the release of nervous energy which % 
relieves the tension of desire. It is the beginning of 
action, of realization. But what shall we say of re- 
solves which cannot at once be carried out in action? 
Of decisions the realization of which is deferred? I may 
long debate the matter and then determine to pay a bill 
when it comes due next month. The decision is made; 
but, for a time, at least, nothing happens. How can I 
here speak of the beginning of action? 

The action does not at once begin, yet it is, in a sense, 
initiated. The struggle of conflicting considerations has 
ceased; the man is " set " for action in a certain direc- 
tion. For the time being the matter is settled, and 



IMPULSE, DESIRE, AND WILL 89 

only an external circumstance prevents the resolve from 
being carried out. The psychic factor is widely different 
from that of mere desire, and is not recognized to be 
different from that present in volition which at once 
issues in action. 



CHAPTER XII 
THE PERMANENT WILL 

37. Consciously Chosen Ends. — Our volitions, delib- 
erate, less deliberate, and those verging upon what 
scarcely deserves the name of volition, weave themselves 
into complicated patterns, which find their expression 
in long series of the most varied activities. The nature 
of the pattern as a whole may be determined by the 
deliberate selection of an end, and to that the other 
choices which enter into the complex may be subordinate. 

Thus, a man may decide that he can afford to give 
himself the pleasure of a long walk through the country 
before taking the train at the next town. During the 
course of the ramble he may make a number of more 
or less conscious decisions not incompatible with the 
purpose he originally embraced — to take this bit of 
road or that, to loiter in the shade, to climb a hill that 
he may enjoy a view, to hasten lest he find himself too 
late in arriving at his destination. These decisions may 
require little deliberation; they spring into being at the 
call of the moment, are not preceded by deliberation, 
and leave little trace in the memory. They may be 
made semi-consciously, and while the mind is largely 
occupied with other things, with thoughts of the past or 
the future, with other scenes suggested by the landscape, 

90 



THE PERMANENT WILL 91 

or with the flowers which skirt the road. Nevertheless, 
we would not hesitate to call them decisions. 

May we apply the word in speaking of the single 
steps made by the traveler as he advances? His feet 
seem to move of themselves and to make no demands at 
all upon his attention. 

Yet it is not strictly true to say that they move of 
themselves. They are under control, and the successive 
steps follow upon each other not without direction. 
They serve as expressions of the will to take the walk, 
and they are adjusted to the end consciously held in 
view. That attention is not fixed upon the individual 
steps does not remove them from the sphere of the 
voluntary, in a proper sense of the words. They are 
expressions of the man's will, even if they be not the 
result of a conscious series of deliberations and decisions. 
Whether we shall use the term decision in connection 
with the single step is rather a question of verbal usage 
than of the determination of fact. We have seen 
that decisions shade down gradually, from those quite 
unmistakable and characteristic, to occurrences far less 
characteristic and more disputable. The consciousness 
of deliberation and decision does not disappear ab- 
ruptly at some point in the series. It fades away, as 
the light of day gradually passes, through twilight, into 
the shades of night. And actions not directly recognizable 
as consciously voluntary may be obviously under vol- 
untary control. They weave themselves, with actions 
more palpably voluntary and higher in the scale, into 
those complicated patterns determined by the conscious 
selection of an end. As long as they serve their purpose, 
and require no effort, they may remain inconspicuous 



92 THE REALM OF ENDS 

and unconsidered. But, as soon as a check is met with, 
attention is directed upon them and they become the 
subject of conscious voluntary control. 

38. Ends not Consciously Chosen. — In the above 
illustration the end which determines the character of a 
long chain of actions has been deliberately chosen. It is 
a consciously selected end. When, however, we con- 
template critically the lives of our fellow-men, we seem 
to become aware of the fact that many of them act in 
unconsciousness of the ultimate end upon which their 
actions converge. The attention is taken up with mi- 
nor decisions, and takes no note of the permanent trend 
of the will. 

Thus, the selfish man may be unaware of the signifi- 
cance of the whole series of choices which he makes in 
a day; the malicious man may not realize that he is 
animated by the settled purpose to injure his neigh- 
bors; one may be law-abiding without ever having re- 
solved to obey the laws through the course ,pf a life. 
If called upon to account for this or that subordinate 
decision, each may exhaust his ingenuity in assigning 
false causes, while ignoring the permanent attitude of 
the will revealed in the series of decisions as a whole 
and giving them what consistency they possess. 

Hence, the choice of ends, as well as the adoption of 
means to the attainment of ends, may reveal itself either 
in conscious deliberate decisions, or in the working of ob- 
scure impulses which do not emerge into the light. Even 
in the latter case, we have not to do with what is wholly 
beyond the sphere of intelligent voluntary control. The 
selfish man may be made aware that he is selfish; the 
malicious man, that he is malicious; and each may de- 



THE PERMANENT WILL 93 

liberately take steps to remedy the defect revealed. 

When we understand the word " will " in the broad 
sense indicated in the preceding pages, we see that a man's 
habits may justly be regarded as expressions of the man's 
will. That, through repetition, his actions have become 
almost automatic does not remove them from the sphere 
of the volitional. That he does not clearly see, or that 
he misconceives, the significance of his habits, and may 
acquiesce in them even though they be injurious to him, 
does not make them the less willed, so long as he follows 
them. It is only when he actively endeavors to con- 
trol or modify a habit that he may be said to will its 
opposite. 

39. The Choice of Ideals. — Nor is it too much to 
bring under the head of willing the attitudes of approval 
and disapproval taken by man in contemplating certain 
occurrences, actual or possible, which lie beyond the 
confines of the field within which he can exercise control. 
The field of control, direct and indirect, is as we have 
seen a broad one, but it has its limits, and many of the 
things he would like to see accomplished or prevented 
lie without it. 

A man's will may be set upon the preservation of 
his health, he may strive to attain that end, and circum- 
stances may condemn him to a life of invalidism. He 
would be healthy if he could, but his strivings are over- 
ruled. Or he may earnestly pursue the attainment of 
wealth, and may end in bankruptcy. He has the will 
to be rich, but that will is frustrated. 

It is the same when we consider his attitude toward 
the decisions and actions of other men. By mere willing 
he cannot condition another's choice. But by willing 



94 THE REALM OF ENDS 

he can often influence indirectly the volitions of his 
fellows. He can enlighten or misinform, persuade or 
threaten, reward or punish. In many ways he can weight 
the scale of his neighbor's mind. But such influences 
are not all-powerful, and only within limits can we bend 
other wills to follow a course prescribed for them by 
our own. 

Nevertheless, even beyond those limits, the attitude 
of a man's mind toward the actions of his neighbor may 
be a volitional one. His will may be for them or against 
them; he may approve or disapprove, command or pro- 
hibit. We know quite well that commands and prohi- 
bitions laid upon children and servants will not always 
be effective, yet we issue general commands and pro- 
hibitions, as though assuming unlimited control. It is 
quite in accordance with usage to speak of a man as 
willing an end, even where it is clearly recognized that 
the will to attain does not guarantee attainment. The 
man does what he can; could he do more he would do 
so ; in his helplessness the attitude of the will persists 
unchanged. 

It is obvious that, in this large sense of the word 
" will," we may speak of a man as continuing to will 
or to approve a given end, even when he is not willing 
or approving anything, in a narrower sense of the words, 
at this or that moment. We speak of a man as inspired 
by the permanent will to be rich, although at many 
times during the day, and certainly during his hours of 
sleep, no act of volition with such an end in view has 
an actual existence. 

No man always thinks of the permanent ends which 
he has selected as controls to his actions. They are 



THE PERMANENT WILL 95 

selected, they pass from his mind, and, when they recur 
to it again, the selection is reaffirmed. But, whether he 
is actually thinking about the ends in question or not, 
the settled trend of his will is expressed in them. 

This settled trend of the will, even when scarcely 
recognized by the man himself, may be vastly more 
significant than the passing individual decision, although 
the latter be accompanied by clear consciousness. In 
certain cases the latter is a true exponent of character, 
but not infrequently it is not. It may be the result of 
a whim, of an irrational impulse little congruous with 
a man's nature. It may be the outcome of some mis- 
conception and in contradiction with what the man would 
will, if enlightened. The individual volition appears 
only to disappear ; it may leave no apparent trace. The 
permanent will indicates a habit of mind, a way of 
acting, which may be expected to make its influence 
felt with the persistency of that which exerts a steady 
pressure. To refuse it the name of will seems arbitrary 
and unjustifiable. 

In the permanent will is expressed the character of the 
man. This character is reflected in his ideals. Some- 
times ideals are clearly recognized and deliberately 
chosen. Sometimes a man is little aware of the nature 
of the ideals which control his strivings. He may be 
said to choose, but to choose more or less blindly. But, 
whether he chooses with clear vision or without it, he 
may choose well or ill. 



CHAPTER XIII 
THE OBJECT IN DESIRE AND WILL 

40. The Object as End to be Realized. — The expres- 
sion " the object before the mind in desiring and willing " 
is not free from ambiguity. It may be used in referring 
to the idea, the psychic fact, which is present when one 
desires or wills. Or it may be used to indicate the 
future fact which is the realization of the idea, that 
which the idea points to as its end. 

The idea and the end are, of course, not identical, 
but they are related. The idea mirrors the end, fore- 
shadows it. In the attempt to explain a voluntary act 
we may turn either to the one or to the other; we 
may regard the idea as the efficient cause which has 
resulted in the act, or we may account for the act by 
pointing out the end it was purposed to attain. There 
is no reason why we should not recognize both the effi- 
cient cause and the final cause, or end. 

The latter has been the subject of more or less mysti- 
fication. How, it has been asked, can an end, which 
does not, as yet, exist, be a cause which sets in motion 
the apparatus that brings about its own existence? 1 

The difficulty is a gratuitous one. It lies in the 
confusion of the final cause or end, with the efficient 
cause. When we realize that the expression " final cause " 

1 See Janet, Les Causes Finales, Paris, 1901, p. 1, ff. 
96 



THE OBJECT IN DESIRE AND WILL 97 

means simply that which is purposed, or accepted 
as an end, objections to it fall away. That, in desire 
and will, in all their higher manifestations, at least, 
there is consciousness of an end, there can be no question. 

If we attempt to give more than a vague physical 
explanation of actions due to blind impulse, we are com- 
pelled to refer to the idea, the psychic fact present, as 
efficient cause. Not so when we are concerned with 
actions of a higher order. We constantly refer such 
actions to the ends they have in view. We regard them 
as satisfactorily explained when we have pointed out 
the end upon which they are directed. 

To the moralist it is of the utmost importance to 
know what ends men actually choose, and what they 
may be induced to choose. He is concerned with con- 
duct, which is intelligent and purposive action. Con- 
duct may be studied without entering upon an investiga- 
tion of the efficient causes, whether physical or mental, 
which are the antecedents of action of any kind. Such 
matters one may leave to the physiologist and the psy- 
chologist. 

Accordingly, when I speak of " the object " in desiring 
and willing, I shall use the word to indicate the end held 
in view, that toward which the creature desiring or will- 
ing strives. 

41. Human Nature and the Objects Chosen. — What 
objects do men actually desire and will to attain? To 
give a detailed account of them appears to be a hopeless 
and profitless task. 

I take up my pen, I write, I turn to a book; I look 
at my watch, change my position, stretch, walk up and 
down, speak to some one who is present, smile or give 



98 THE REALM OF ENDS 

vent to irritation ; I sit down to a meal, eat of this dish 
rather than of that, go out to visit a place of amuse- 
ment, respond to the appeal of the beggar in the street 
— in short, I fill my day with a thousand actions the 
most diverse, which follow each other without inter- 
mission. 

Each of these actions may be the object of desire 
and will. No novel, however realistic, however prolix 
in its descriptions, can give us more than the barest 
outlines of the course of life followed by the personages 
it attempts to portray. A touch here, a touch there, 
and a character is indicated. No more, for more would 
be intolerable. 

It is significant, however, that the few points touched 
upon can serve to give an idea of a character. Not- 
withstanding their diversity, volitions fall into classes; 
it is quite possible to indicate in a general way the kind 
of choices a given creature may be impelled to make. 
They are a revelation of the nature of the creature 
choosing. That beings differing in their nature should 
be impelled to different courses of action can surprise 
no one. Cats have no temptation to wander in herds; 
the exhibition of pugnacity in a sheep would strike us 
with wonder. 

To every kind of creature its nature; and, although 
individuals within a kind differ more or less from one 
another, we look for approximation to a type. So it 
is with man. The expression " human nature," so much 
in the mouths of certain moralists ancient and modern, 
although somewhat vague, is not without its significance. 
To it we refer in passing a judgment upon individual 
human beings, and we regard as abnormal those who 
vary widely from the type. 



THE OBJECT IN DESIRE AND WILL 99 

42. The Instincts and Impulses of Man. — In sketch- 
ing for us the outlines of this distinctively human nature, 
the psychologist proceeds to an enumeration of the fun- 
damental instincts and general innate tendencies of man, 
and he draws up a list of the emotions which correspond 
to them. He mentions the instincts of flight, repulsion, 
curiosity, pugnacity, self-abasement, self-assertion, the 
parental instinct, the instinct of sex, the instinct for 
food, that for acquisition, etc. He points out that man 
is by nature open to sympathy, is suggestible, and has 
the impulse to play. In such instincts and inborn gen- 
eral tendencies, blending and reinforcing or opposing 
and inhibiting one another, he sees the forces which give 
their direction to desire and will; which select, out of 
all possible objects, those which are to become objects 
for man. 

It is not necessary here to discuss the nature of in- 
stinct, to distinguish between an instinct and a more 
general inborn tendency, or to attempt a complete list 
of the instincts and inborn tendencies of man. Nor need 
I ask whether every choice made by a human being can 
be traced, directly or indirectly, to one or more of the 
instincts and other tendencies given in the above or 
in any similar list. In explaining the individual choices 
which men make, or the desires to which they are sub- 
ject, there is much scope for the ingenuity of the psy- 
chologist. 

But of the significance for human life of the impulses 
mentioned there can be no question. What would the 
life of a man be if he could feel no fear or repulsion? 
Could there be a development of knowledge in the ab- 
sence of curiosity? How long would the race endure 



100 THE REALM OF ENDS 

if the parental instinct were wholly lacking? What 
would become of a man who never desired food? Could 
a human society of any sort exist if there were no 
sympathy or tender feeling, no impulse to seek the com- 
pany of other men? It is men, such as they are, endowed 
with the qualities which distinguish man, who associate 
themselves into communities, and the customs and laws 
of such reflect the fundamental impulses in which they 
had their origin. 

43. The Study of Man's Instincts Important. — That 
a careful study of human nature is of the utmost im- 
portance to the moralist is palpable. He must not 
prescribe for man a rule of conduct which it is not in 
man to follow. He must not set before him, as induce- 
ments to actions, objects which it is impossible for him 
to desire and, hence, to choose. 

To be sure, the main traits of human nature were 
pretty well recognized many centuries before the modern 
science of psychology had its birth. Had they not been, 
man could not have had rational dealings with his 
fellow-man; could not effectively have persuaded and 
threatened, rewarded and punished, and, in short, set in 
motion all the machinery which is at the service of one 
man when he wants to influence the conduct of another. 
But moralists ancient and modern have made serious 
blunders through an imperfect understanding of the im- 
pulses natural to man; and the modern psychologist, 
without claiming to be a wholly original or an infallible 
guide, may be of no little service in helping us to detect 
them. 

Thus, it was possible for as shrewd an observer of 
man as Aristotle to explain the affection of a man for 



THE OBJECT IN DESIRE AND WILL 101 

his child by regarding it as an extension of self-love, 
the child being, in a sense, a part of the parent. 2 Aris- 
totle's quaint explanation of the fact that maternal 
affection is apt to be stronger than paternal is an error 
of a kindred nature. 3 And the ancient egoists, 4 in setting 
before man their selfish and anti-social ideal of human 
conduct, made their appeal, not to the whole man, but 
only to a part of him. The normal man, whether savage 
or civilized, whether ancient or modern, cannot desire 
a life filled only with the objects which they set before 
him. Nor is the modern moralist, or as he prefers to 
style himself, " immoralist," Nietzsche, 5 guilty of less 
gross a blunder. He rails at morality as commonly un- 
derstood, calling it " the morality of the herd," and he 
recommends isolation, the repression of sympathy, and 
a contempt for one's fellows. To be sure, the " herd " 
is a scornful, rhetorical expression, — what Bentham 
would have called a " question-begging epithet," — for 
men do not, properly speaking, live in herds; but they 
do normally live in human societies of some sort, and 
they have the instincts and impulses which fit them to 
do so. The repression of such instincts and impulses 
does violence to their nature, and he who advocates 
other than a social morality should advocate it for some 
creature other than man. Man is a social creature, and, 
among the objects of his desire and will, he must give a 
prominent place to some which are distinctively social. 

2 Ethics, Book VIII, chapter xii. 

3 Ibid., Book IX, chapter vii. 

4 See the answer to Epicurus in the Discourses oj Epictetus, 
translated by Long, London, 1890, pp. 69-70. 

5 A sketch of Nietzsche's doctrine is given later, see chapter 
xxix. 



102 THE REALM OF ENDS 

44. The Bewildering Multiplicity of the Objects of 
Desire, and the Effort to Find an Underlying Unity. — 

The mere enumeration of the characteristics which have 
been adduced as instincts or fundamental innate tend- 
encies of man is enough to reveal the truth that man is 
not merely the subject of desire, but of desires; that is 
to say, his impulses are directed upon objects widely 
different from each other. 

And when we call to mind that the concepts of the 
instincts and fundamental tendencies of human nature, 
as thus enumerated, are products of abstraction and gen- 
eralization — are general notions gathered from the 
numberless concrete instances of desire and will furnished 
by our observation — we are forced to realize that the 
objects which individual men set before themselves in 
desiring and willing are really endlessly varied. 

All men are not equally moved by fear, anger, repul- 
sion, tender emotion, or sympathy. Nor do all men 
find the same things the objects of their fear, anger, 
repulsion, and the rest. The desire for food is an ab- 
straction; in the concrete, this_ man eagerly accepts an 
oyster, and that one turns from it in disgust. In order 
to deal successfully with our fellow-man, we must not 
merely know man. We must know men. 

Furthermore, not only do individuals set their affec- 
tions upon different objects, but the same person at 
different stages of his development desires widely dif- 
ferent things. What is a temptation to the boy has 
no attraction for the man. What fills the savage with 
longings may inspire in the product of a high civili- 
zation no other feeling than repulsion. 

And what is true of the individual is true of men in the 



THE OBJECT IN DESIRE AND WILL 103 

mass. The objects of desire and of endeavor are not 
the same in communities of all orders. Each kind of 
man has its own nature, which differs in some respects 
from that of each other kind, and dictates what shall 
be, for this or that man, an object of desire and will. 
No two men desire precisely the same thing in all 
particulars. Yet each is a man, and is endowed with 
the usual complement of human instincts. 

The process of abstraction and generalization which 
resulted in the above-mentioned list of the elements 
which enter into the constitution of human nature is, 
nevertheless, not without its uses. It serves to order, 
to some extent, at least, the bewildering variety of the 
phenomena presented to us when we view the broad 
field of the desires and volitions of all sorts and conditions 
of men. Men's choices fall into kinds; there is sim- 
iliarity in difference. We do not approach an unknown 
man with the feeling that he is a wholly unknown quan- 
tity. He is, at least, a man, and we know something 
of men. We have some notion how to go at him. 

But the ordering of the motley multiplicity of men's 
desires by a reference to the fundamental instincts of 
man stops far short of a complete unification. We are 
left with a number of distinct and apparently irreducible 
impulses and tendencies on our hands. If it is useful to 
go so far, may it not be much more useful to go still 
farther? 

Aristotle divided things eligible into those eligible in 
themselves and those eligible for the sake of something 
else. How it would illuminate the field of action, if 
it were discovered that men ultimately desire but one 
thing, and choose all other things on account of it! 



104 THE REALM OF ENDS 

Would the discovery not facilitate immensely our deal- 
ings with our fellows, suggesting new possibilities of 
control? A notorious instance of the attempt to con- 
jure away the bewildering diversity in men's desires and 
choices lies in the selection of pleasure as the one thing 
eligible in itself, the unique ultimate object of human 
action. Of this object we have, so far, taken no account. 



CHAPTER XIV 
INTENTION AND MOTIVE 

45. Complex Ends. — I may desire to clear my throat 
and may do so. The action is a trivial one, is over in 
a moment, and is forgotten. On the other hand, I 
may desire to spend my summer on the sea-coast, to 
grow rich in business, to attain to high social position, 
or to satisfy political ambition. 

When the object is of this complicated description, 
there may easily be elements in it which, considered 
alone, I should not desire at all. 

The summer on the New Jersey coast may make for 
health. But it may entail mosquitoes, uncomfortable 
rooms, unaccustomed food, the lack of wonted occupa- 
tions, and a distasteful association at close quarters with 
neighbors not of one's choosing. The road to wealth is 
an arduous one. The envied social station may imply 
the swallowing of many rebuffs. The way of the poli- 
tician is hard. 

One may desire, on the whole, one of these objects, 
or a thousand like them; but there are, obviously, many 
things comprised in the whole, or unavoidably bound 
up with it, that cannot attract, and are not eligible for 
their own sake. 

46. Intention. — An object chosen and realized may 
bring in its train an indefinite series of consequences 
foreseen or unforeseen. 

105 



106 THE REALM OF ENDS 

The striking of a match to light a candle may result 
in an unforeseen and disastrous conflagration. The over- 
mastering desire to grow rich may have its fruit in an 
excessive application to business, the neglect of the fam- 
ily and of the duties of citizenship, and in hard and, 
perhaps, unscrupulous dealings. These things may be 
foreseen and accepted as natural accompaniments of 
the end chosen. But there may also be entailed shattered 
health, overwhelming anxieties, and the distress of see- 
ing one's sons, brought up in luxury and without incen- 
tive to effort, victims to the dangers which menace the 
idle rich. 

Whether such consequences might have been foreseen 
and provided against or not, it is true that they are 
frequently not foreseen with clearness. They certainly 
form no part of the intention of the man who bends 
his energies to the attainment of wealth. He does not 
deliberately intend to injure his health, to lose the affec- 
tion of his family, to leave behind him degenerate chil- 
dren. He does intend to get rich, if he can. 

How many of the elements contained in the object 
chosen, or so bound up with it that they must be ac- 
cepted along with it, may fairly be said to fall within 
the intention of the chooser? There may easily be 
dispute touching the latitude with which the word inten- 
tion may be used. Some things a man sees clearly to 
be inseparably connected with the object of his choice; 
some he is less conscious of ; some he overlooks altogether. 
It does not seem unwarranted to maintain that the first 
of the three classes of things, at least, may be said to 
be intended. When Dr. Katzenberger, in his desire to 
get across the road without sinking in the mire used 



INTENTION AND MOTIVE 107 

as a stepping-stone his old servant Flex, who had fallen 
down, his complete intention was not simply to cross 
the road unmuddied. It was to cross the road unmud- 
died by stepping on Flex. 

Evidently the intention — the whole object — gives 
some revelation of the character of a man. Many men 
may will to avoid the mud; but not all of these can 
will to avoid it by stepping upon a fellow-man. 

47. Motive. — The stepping upon a fellow-man with 
whom one is on good terms can scarcely be regarded 
as a thing desirable in itself. If it is desired, it is because 
of the complex in which it is an element. Some other 
element or elements may exert the whole attractive force 
which moves desire and will. In other words, some 
things are chosen for the sake of others. 

When we have discovered that for the sake of which 
any object is chosen, we have come upon the Motive. 
The intention may be said to embrace the whole object 
as foreseen. The motive embraces only a part of it, but 
the vital part, the part without which the object would 
not be desired and willed. 

48. Ethical Significance of Intention and Motive. — 
There has been much dispute among moralists as to the 
ethical significance of intention and motive. Bentham 
maintains that " from one and the same motive, and 
from every kind of motive, may proceed actions that 
are good, others that are bad, and others that are in- 
different." He gives the following illustration: 1 

" 1. A boy, in order to divert himself, reads an in- 
spiring book; the motive is accounted, perhaps, a good 
one; at any rate, not a bad one. 2. He sets his top 

J Principles of Morals and Legislation, chapter x, § 3. 



108 THE REALM OF ENDS 

a-spinning: the motive is deemed at any rate not a bad 
one. 3. He sets loose a mad ox among a crowd: his 
motive is now, perhaps, termed an abominable one. Yet 
in all three cases the motive may be the very same: it 
may be neither more nor less than curiosity." 

In criticizing this citation I must point out that curi- 
osity is not, properly speaking, an object of choice at 
all. I have used the word " object " to indicate what is 
chosen, not to indicate the psychic fact present at the 
time of the choice. And I have said that the motive is 
the vital part of the object. 

Hence curiosity should not be called the motive. No 
man chooses curiosity as an object, either in the abstract 
or in the concrete. Curiosity is a fundamental impulse 
of human nature; we may elect to satisfy the impulse 
in any given instance; in other words, we may choose 
the appropriate object. 

In the case of the boy letting loose the bull in the 
crowd, the object is to see what will happen under the 
given circumstances. This is what appeals to the boy. 
Something else might have appealed to him in performing 
the action. He might have had the deliberate wish to 
injure certain persons present against whom he harbored 
resentment. Or his sympathies might have been with 
the bull, which had been the victim of bad treatment, 
and to which he wished to grant its liberty. Were the 
crowd in question a band of ruffians intent upon lynching, 
he might have been moved by the desire to assist, in a 
somewhat irregular way, in the reestablishment of law 
and order. But even if his real object is only to see 
what will happen, there is no reason to put it on a par 
with the object in view when a boy spins a top. " To 



INTENTION AND MOTIVE 109 

see what will happen " is the vaguest of phrases, and 
covers a multitude of disparate objects. He who does 
things to see what will happen has, at least, a very gen- 
eral knowledge of the kind of thing likely to happen, 
if a given experiment is made. A boy does not hold his 
finger in the candle-flame to see what will happen. He 
who does things to see what will happen, in really com- 
plete ignorance of what is likely to happen, may be set 
down as too much of a fool to be the subject of moral 
judgments. 

It is obvious that an act may be done with many 
different objects in view — I mean real objects, motives. 
I give money to a beggar whose case is one to inspire 
pity. My motive, my " vital " object, may be to relieve 
the man. But it may equally well be to get rid of 
him, to gratify my self-feeling by becoming the dis- 
penser of bounty, or to inspire admiration in the on- 
looker. The intention, as I have used the word above, 
is to relieve the beggar, with such consequences of the 
act as may be foreseen at the time. Within the limits 
of this intention, the motive may vary widely, and 
may, in a given instance, be either admirable or con- 
temptible. 

It may be claimed, in answer to this, that the real 
intention is, in every case, what I have called the motive; 
that, in the first case, it was to relieve suffering; in the 
second, to get rid of an annoyance; in the third to 
satisfy vanity; in the fourth, to be admired. 

The word " intention," thus used, is equivalent to 
" motive." Popular usage gives some sanction to this 
confusion of the words. We say of a man who has done 
a questionable act: " His intentions were good," or, 



110 THE REALM OF ENDS 

" His motives were good." Still, popular usage does not 
always regard the two expressions as equivalent. To 
revert to the case of the unhappy Flex. It does not 
seem inappropriate to say that the use of a man as a 
stepping-stone was a part of his master's intention. It 
does appear inappropriate to call it the motive or a 
part of the motive of the whole transaction. 

Intention and motive are convenient words to desig- 
nate the whole object chosen and the part of the 
object which accounts for the choicie of the whole. 
That it is important to distinguish between the two is 
palpable. 

The intention gives some indication of character. We 
know something about a man when we know what kinds 
of objects he will probably set before himself as aims. 
But we know more when we know why he chooses 
these objects rather than others; when we can analyze 
the complex and can discover just what elements in it 
attract him. 

With an increase of our knowledge comes an increased 
power of control. Until we know a man's motives, we 
do not really know the man; and until we know the man, 
our efforts to influence him must be rather blind. 

The search for motives appears to carry us in the 
direction of the systematization and simplification of the 
embarrassing wealth of objects which are actually the 
goal of human desires and volitions. Man may desire 
a boundless variety of objects. His motives in desiring 
them may, conceivably, be comparatively few. 

It should be apparent that both intention and motive 
have ethical significance. We have our opinion of men 
capable of harboring certain intentions. But we rec- 



INTENTION AND MOTIVE 111 

ognize that some men may harbor them with better 
motives than others. And we can see that a man's 
intention may be bad, and yet his motive, considered 
in itself, be good. How we are to rate the man, morally, 
becomes rather a nice question. 



CHAPTER XV 
FEELING AS MOTIVE 

49. Feeling. 1 — Two men may recognize with equal 
clearness the presence of a danger. That recognition may 
evoke in the one a violent emotion of fear, and in the 
other little or no emotion. Two men may be treated 
with indignity. The one fumes with rage; the other 
remains calm. ■ It is well recognized that men may be 
susceptible to emotion in general, or to certain specific 
emotions, in varying degrees. Knowledge is not always 
accompanied by a marked manifestation of emotion. 
Thoughts may be clear, but cold. There are, however, 
natures whose intellectual processes are steeped in emo- 
tion. Such men live in an atmosphere of agitation. 

Lists of the emotions which correspond to the instincts 
and fundamental impulses of man have been drawn up, 
In them we find mentioned fear, disgust, wonder, anger, 
elation, tender feeling, and so forth; phenomena which, 
by earlier writers, were classified as " passions," and to 
which we may conveniently give the name " feeling." 
We constantly speak of our emotions as our " feelings," 
and we contrast the man of feeling with the coldly intel- 
lectual mind in which emotion is at a minimum. 

But it is not alone to such specific emotions as those 
above-mentioned that we apply the term feeling. 

1 See the notes on this chapter at the end of this volume. 
112 



FEELING AS MOTIVE 113 

Thoughts are agreeable or disagreeable, pleasurable or 
painful. So are emotions. The agreeableness or dis- 
agreeableness, pleasantness or painfulness, which are the 
accompaniments of thoughts and emotions, have been 
called by modern psychologists their feeling-tone. It 
is not out of harmony with common usage to give them 
the name of feelings. In so doing we contrast them with 
knowledge and assimilate them to emotion. 

Whether every sensation and every thought gives rise 
to an emotion of some sort is matter for dispute, as is 
also the question whether every sensation, thought and 
emotion is tinged with some degree of pleasurable or 
painful feeling. In the absence of conclusive evidence, 
it is open to us to assume that some feeling is always 
present where there is mental activity of any kind. The 
feeling may be so faint and evanescent as to escape 
detection, but this does not prove that it is absent. 

50. Feeling and Action. — Emotions and feelings of 
pleasure and pain are the normal accompaniments of the 
exercise of the instincts and impulses of creatures that 
desire and will. Within limits, we appear to be able to 
take them as an index of the strength of the desire and 
the vigor of the effort at attainment. 

An act of cruelty is perpetrated. I see it, and it leaves 
me, perhaps, cold and unmoved. In such case, it is 
hardly expected of me that I should take energetic 
measures to have the evil-doer punished. The man 
whose face flushes, whose brows descend, whose teeth 
come together, whose fists clench, whose heart beats 
thickly, at the recognition of an insult, is, as a rule, the 
man from whom we look for vigorous efforts at retali- 
ation. The apathetic creature who feels no resentment 



114 THE REALM OF ENDS 

is usually expected to swallow the indignity. The child 
who jumps for joy at the sight of a new doll is supposed to 
desire it eagerly, and to be ready to make efforts to 
obtain it. 

But it is only within limits that this relation between 
feeling and action holds. Men of little emotion may be 
resolute and prompt to action. Their desires, as evinced 
by their actions, may be persistent and effective. Nor 
need the individual fix his choice upon the particular 
object that arouses in him the most feeling. A man may 
see his fellow- creature destitute, and may shed tears 
over his pitiable lot. But he will not bequeath his 
money to him. He will leave it to his son, for whom, 
perhaps, he has no respect and has come to have little 
affection. And he may leave it to him with regret, 
knowing that it will be dissipated in ways which he 
cannot approve. It has been pointed out with justice 
that the exercise of many instincts may be accompanied 
with little feeling ; and we are all aware of the fact that, 
as action becomes habitual, emotion tends to evaporate 
and the pleasure of effort and attainment is apt to be 
reduced to a minimum. 

51. Feeling as Object. — It is well to keep in mind 
the distinction between feeling as a psychic fact present 
in the mind of the creature desiring and willing, and 
feeling as the object of desire and will. A man in 
a rage is the victim of a storm of feeling. The thought 
of the injury he has received and the desire for retali- 
ation by no means exhaust the contents of his mind. But 
the passion which shakes him is not his object; that 
object is revengeful action. 

Nevertheless, feeling may be made the object of desire 
and will. One may attend a religious or political meet- 



FEELING AS MOTIVE 115 

ing with the deliberate view of arousing in one's self 
certain complex emotions. Poe's gruesome talcs are read 
for the sake of the thrill which is produced by the pe- 
rusal. Probably the desire for excitement, for the expe- 
riencing of certain vivid emotions, has no little to do 
with the attraction exercised by certain criminal pro- 
fessions. The burglar desires the booty, but he may 
desire something more. 

Emotions have, as we have seen, their " tone " of 
pleasure or pain. They are agreeable or the reverse, 
and it is palpable that men do not, as a rule, deliberately 
make them the object of desire and will in indifference 
to the fact that they are pleasant or are painful. We 
do not normally wish to attain to states of mind in 
which remorse plays a prominent part; we do not aim 
to revel in shame; we do not seek to be haunted with 
fear. Pleasurable emotions are desired, where desire is 
set on emotions at all ; and painful emotions are regarded 
by the mind as unwelcome guests. At any rate, this 
appears to be the rule, and to characterize the man 
whom we regard as normal. 

This being the case, it seems natural to ask whether, 
when we embrace the intention of producing in ourselves 
a given emotion, our motive may not be narrower in 
scope, namely, the attainment of pleasure? and, when 
we wish to rid the mind of any emotion, our motive may 
not be the avoidance of pain? 

The adoption of this view would give to the feelings 
of pleasure and pain a unique importance. They would 
be accepted as the only ultimate objects of desire and 
will. By many they have been thus accepted. It has 
been insisted that objects of every description are chosen 
only as they arouse some feeling; and that those which 



116 THE REALM OF ENDS 

promise pleasant feeling are sought and those which en- 
tail pain are avoided. The general recognition of the 
primacy of pleasure and pain over our other feelings, 
over the specific emotions mentioned above, is indicated 
by the fact that ethical writers of eminence sometimes 
make pleasure and pain synonymous with feeling in 
general, passing over other feelings, as though it were 
not important for the moralist to take them into con- 
sideration. The dispute whether the proper course for 
human action to take is prescribed by reason or is dic- 
tated by feeling often resolves itself into the problem 
whether we should be guided by reason, or by a con- 
sideration of pleasure to be attained or pain to be avoided. 

52. Freedom as Object. — The acceptance of pleasure 
and pain as the ultimate motives of human action seems, 
at first sight, to be of inestimable assistance to us in 
threading our way through the labyrinth of diverse 
choices made by creatures that desire and will. 

But only at first sight. Even if it be true that every 
creature seeks only to attain pleasure and to avoid pain, 
and uses the means it finds to hand in the attainment 
of these ends, the endless diversity of the means remains 
as a thing to reckon with. The knowledge that all 
men desire pleasure does not help us a whit in dealing 
with men, unless we know what things will give pleasure 
to this man or to that. All men may desire pleasure; 
but it remains true that what gives pleasure to the 
spendthrift gives pain to the miser ; what appeals to the 
glutton disgusts a man of refined tastes. If all men 
were alike and precisely alike, and if their natures were 
very simple and remained unchanged, the problem of 
the distribution of pleasures would be vastly simplified. 



FEELING AS MOTIVE 117 

Whether the pursuit of pleasure and the avoidance of 
pain may be regarded as the only ultimate ends proper 
to man will be discussed later. 2 Here, it is important 
to insist that so general a formula gives us little useful 
information touching the set of the will either of classes 
of men or of individuals. This we can attain to only as 
a result of the study of the complex nature of man as 
revealed in the choices which he actually makes. The 
ends of man are many and various; some of these ends 
are accidental, palpably means for the attainment of 
other ends more fundamental, and for them other means 
of attaining the same ends may be substituted. But 
other ends, and they are by no means to be reduced 
to a single class, appear to belong to the very nature 
of man. In seeking them he is giving expression to 
the impulses which make him what he is. 

In so far as these impulses find an unimpeded expres- 
sion the man is free; otherwise he is under restraint. 
Without rendering here a final decision upon the impor- 
tance of the role played in human life by pleasure and 
pain, one feels impelled to ask the question whether 
the goal of a man's endeavors may not best be described 
as freedom? Not freedom in the abstract, freedom to 
do anything and everything, but freedom to live the life 
appropriate to him as man, and as a man of a given 
type. That this freedom is limited in a variety of ways, 
by his material environment, by the clashing of im- 
pulses within himself, by the conflict of his desires 
with the will of the social organism in which he finds 
his place, is sufficiently palpable. 

2 See chapter xxv. 



CHAPTER XVI 
RATIONALITY AND WILL 

53. The Irrational Will. — As dreams do not consist 
of an insignificant medley of elements drawn from the 
experiences of waking life, but, in spite of their fantastic 
character, bear some semblance of ordered reality, so 
the impulses of even the most unintelligent and inconse- 
quent of human beings are not wholly chaotic, but differ 
only in the degree of their organization from those of 
the most rational and far-seeing. 

Where there is even a glimmer of intelligence, ends 
are recognized and means to their attainment are chosen. 
Ends are compared, and the preference is given to some 
over others. But, with all this, there may be much 
incoherence and planlessriess. Men can live somehow 
without looking far into the future, or keeping well in 
mind the lessons to be learned from the past. They can 
manage to exist in the face of no little short-sighted 
impulsiveness and inconsistency. But it is palpable that 
they cannot, under such circumstances, live as they might 
live were they more truly rational. 

The individual deficient in foresight and control may, 
it is true, be carried along and defended from disaster 
by the presence of these qualities in the greater organism 
of which he is a part. The infant is a parasite upon 
society ; it is provided for independently of its own efforts. 

118 



RATIONALITY AND WILL 119 

The child would soon come to grief were its ends not 
chosen by others and its conduct kept under control. 
And a vast number of persons not children are in much 
the same position. There is foresight and rational pur- 
pose somewhere; they profit by it; but of foresight and 
rational purpose they themselves possess but a modicum. 

Where breadth of view is lacking, where the future is 
unforeseen or ignored and the past is forgotten, where 
desires arise and impel to action in relative independence 
of one another, the man seeks today what tomorrow he 
rejects. We can scarcely say that the man chooses. He 
is the scene of independent choices, varied and inconsist- 
ent. He is the victim of caprice, and appears to us 
largely the creature of accident, a prey to the impulse 
which happens to be in his mind at the moment. From 
such a man we cannot look for an adherence to distant 
aims, and the marshalling of the proper means to their 
attainment. He cannot count upon himself, and he can- 
not be counted upon. That he can play no significant role 
in such stable organizations as the state and church is 
obvious. His desires may be many and varied, but they 
converge upon no one end. We set him down as irra- 
tional. 

54. One View of Reason. — Concerning the part 
played by reason or intelligence in the active life of 
man there has been no little dispute. 

It has been maintained, on the one hand, that reason 
or intelligence serves its whole purpose in holding before 
the mind all its impulses and desires, revealing their 
interrelations, and making possible an enlightened and 
deliberate choice from among them. Where the horizon 
is thus extended and mental clarity reigns, the attention 



120 THE REALM OF ENDS 

can roam unimpeded over the whole field, consider the 
objects of desire in their true relations and compare them 
with one another. Congruous desires can reinforce each 
other; conflicting desires can be brought face to face, 
and the one or the other can deliberately be dismissed; 
fundamental and dominant desires may assert their su- 
premacy, and give their stamp to far-reaching decisions 
which exercise a control over minor decisions and favor 
or repress a multitude of desires and volitions. . 

The attainment of perfect rationality in this sense is 
an ideal never completely realized. No man can hold 
before his mind all his impulses and desires, see them in 
their true relations to each other, and come to a decision 
which will do complete justice to all. But the ideal may 
be approached. 

The reason, in this case, resembles the presiding officer 
of a deliberative assembly, who insists that all the mem- 
bers shall be heard from, all proposals seriously con- 
sidered, and that the ultimate decision shall justly 
represent the true will of the deliberative body as a 
whole. The specious but fallacious argument is, in the 
debate, revealed in its true nature; the obstinate insist- 
ence of the individual is not allowed to prevail ; the loud 
voice is recognized to be a loud voice and nothing more; 
fugitive gusts of passion exhaust themselves; the per- 
manent and fundamental will of the assembly is revealed 
in the final vote. 

It is claimed that, in such a mind, the result is a har- 
monization and unification of the multiplicity of the 
desires and purposes which, in a mind less rational, jostle 
one another without control, and refuse to fall into an 
ordered system. That the decisions of a rational mind 



RATIONALITY AND WILL 121 

reveal both a unity and a harmony not evinced by a 
mind short-sighted and impulsive cannot be denied. But 
it is well to understand clearly what is meant by such 
unity and harmony. 

55. Dominant and Subordinate Desires. — Wherever 
a group of desires fall into a system and work together 
toward a common end, we have unity. Such a system 
may be short-lived, comparatively poor in content, and 
of no great significance for a man's life as a whole. It 
may come into competition with another similar system, 
and be displaced by it. An interest that has dominated 
our minds for a time, and controlled our desires and 
volitions, may readily give place to different choices. I 
may successively bend all my energies upon the winning 
of a game, the doing of a successful stroke of business, 
the defeat of a social rival, the success of a philanthropic 
undertaking. There is no normal human being who 
does not exhibit such limited volitional units. The most 
idle and purposeless of vagrants, the most scatter-brained 
school-boy, the most volatile coquette, may, for a time, 
be dominated by some desire which calls into its service 
other desires and thus realizes some chosen end. 

Such volitional units do not, however, go far toward 
unifying the efforts of a life. It is only when some 
dominant and deep-seated desire, oft recurring, not easily 
displaced by others, sweeps into its train the other 
desires of a man, establishing a sovereignty and exacting 
subservience, that such an effect is accomplished. Then 
the lesser units fall into a significant relation to each 
other as constituent elements in the greater unit. The 
life, as such, may be said to have a purpose; it strives 
toward a single goal. 



122 THE REALM OF ENDS 

Whatever bears upon the attainment of such a domi- 
nant purpose may, however trivial in itself, acquire a 
vital importance and be eagerly desired. To a man of 
mature mind there can be little interest in hitting a 
small ball with a stick, abstractly considered. Nor is 
the dropping of a bit of paper into a box with a slit in 
it an action in itself calculated to stir profound emotion. 
But if the hitting of the ball in the right way marks the 
critical point in winning an eagerly contested game of 
golf, the interest in it may be absorbing. And if the 
bit of paper is an offer of marriage committed to the 
post, the hand may tremble and the heart leap in the 
breast. A dominant desire may create or reinforce other 
desires to a degree to which it is not easy to set 
limits. 

56. The Harmonization of Desires. — And it may 
actively repress other desires or cause them to dwindle 
and disappear. A man possessed by a devouring ambi- 
tion may resolutely scorn delights to which he would 
otherwise be keenly susceptible, or he may simply ignore 
them without effort. The attention, fixed upon some 
chosen end, and busied with the means to its attainment, 
may leave them unheeded. Finding no place in the 
volitional pattern that occupies the mind, they are cast 
aside and soon forgotten. 

In so far, hence, as the desires of a man tend to fall 
thus into groups converging upon a single end, we find 
not merely unity but harmony. The volitional pattern 
is of a given kind, and the colors which enter into it 
are selected. 

When, however, we speak of the desires of a rational 
mind as harmonized, we do not mean that incompatible 



RATIONALITY AND WILL 123 

desires are reconciled. One cannot laugh and drink at 
the same time, nor can the desire for luxurious ease be 
made to fall upon the neck of the desire for attainment 
through strenuous effort. The final harmony attained 
resembles in some respects the peace enforced by the 
violent character depicted by Mark Twain, who would 
have peace at any price, and was willing to sacrifice to 
it the life and limb of the opposing party. The cessation 
of strife does not imply the satisfaction of all parties 
to a contest; nor does the fact that a life is controlled 
by a ruling motive, which reinforces or calls into being 
certain desires and robs others of their insistence, imply 
that by any device all the desires which man has, still 
less all that he, as a human being, might have, can find 
their satisfaction. Harmony is obtained at the price of 
the suppression of many desires; but, where a mind is 
strongly dominated by a comprehensive volitional unit, 
the price may be paid without much regret. 

57. Varieties of Dominant Ends. — Obviously, the 
comprehensive and harmonious volitional complexes 
which may come to characterize different minds may be 
of very different complexion. Peace of mind, the bubble 
reputation, the amassing of a fortune, a happy domestic 
life, humanitarian effort, the perfecting of one's char- 
acter — each may become the controlling end which fur- 
thers or inhibits individual desires and emotions. Or 
the ends may be such as to appear to most men far more 
insignificant. To the collection of first editions or the 
heaping together of bric-a-brac a man may sacrifice his 
financial security and the welfare of his family. Nat- 
urally, the moralist cannot put all such ends upon the 
same level; but, from the point of view of the psycholo- 



124 THE REALM OF ENDS 

gist, the processes which take place in the minds thus 
unified and harmonized are essentially the same. 

58. An Objection Answered. — To the position that 
it is reason or intelligence that brings about this unity 
and harmony an objection may be brought. It may be 
claimed that breadth of information and clarity of vision 
are quite compatible with highly inconsistent action 
revealing the temporary dominance of a succession of 
incongruous desires. 

Video meliora proboque, deteriora sequor, confessed 
the Latin poet. Have we not seen men of the highest 
intelligence, gifted with foresight, quite capable of 
grasping the relation of means to ends, nevertheless 
subject to the baleful influence of momentary desires 
which drive them hither and thither like a rudderless bark 
at the mercy of the wind and tide? How does it happen 
that their intelligence does not help them? 

To this we may answer that it is not the same thing 
to possess intelligence and to use it. One may be sup- 
plied with information and quite capable of taking long 
views and embracing inclusive ends — and the attention 
may be so preoccupied with the desire of the moment, 
that the voices of others are stifled. In so far as this 
is the case, the man can not, at the time, be said to be 
reasonable or intelligent. He has information, and acts 
as if he were ignorant; his choices do not issue as a 
resultant of his desires as a whole; there is no resultant; 
the single desires make their influence felt separately. 

To be sure, an insistent and oft-recurring desire may 
introduce a good deal of unity and harmony into life, 
even where long views are not taken and there is little 
intelligence. The stupid egoist may become rather a 



RATIONALITY AND WILL 125 

consistent egoist, and increasingly so as he grows older. 
His desires and volitions may converge upon an end of 
which he is very imperfectly conscious; incompatible 
desires may come to be repressed. But this does not 
refute the position that, when reason or intelligence is 
supreme, the attention is directed upon a wide range of 
desires, they are weighed in the light of each other, and 
the ultimate decision is no longer blind, but fairly ex- 
presses the permanent push of the man's nature. Even 
where a desire or group of desires, unilluminated by 
intelligence, seems so insistent as to take on something 
of this character, complete unity and harmony of action 
may be lacking, due to the short-sightedness of the 
methods employed to attain to the chosen goal. Blind 
desires may easily defeat their own ends; wealth does 
not necessarily accumulate in proportion to a man's 
miserliness; the ardent but unenlightened philanthropist 
may do his fellow-man more harm than good. Long 
views are of no little service in weeding out inconsistent 
actions and introducing order and unity into life. 

59. This View of Reason Misconceived. — In the above 
view of the function of reason or intelligence it has not 
been represented as issuing commands to perform certain 
actions rather than others, nor as furnishing motives not 
in some way related to the impulses and desires of man. 
It has been treated, literally, as the presiding officer 
of a public assembly, who insists that every voice shall 
be heard; that all proposals shall be weighed and com- 
pared with one another; that the consequences of all 
shall be clearly foreseen. Its function is enlightenment; 
the driving force which impels to action of any sort has 
been found in the impulses and the desires. 



126 THE REALM OF ENDS 

It is possible to set this view forth in terms which 
make it highly unpalatable. 

Thus Hume, who has a weakness for shocking the 
susceptibilities of the conservative and the sober-minded, 
startles us with the remark that " Reason is, and ought 
only to be, the slave of the passions." 1 This doctrine, 
taken as the average reader is almost inevitably impelled 
to take it, seems worthy of instant reprobation. It ap- 
pears to degrade the rational in man and to exalt the 
blind and irrational. 

But it is not fair to the doctrine to set it forth in such 
terms. There is no small difference between random 
and fugitive desires and those more fundamental desires 
that express truly the nature of a man. Desires organ- 
ized and harmonized gain great strength, and are enabled 
to overcome and expel from the mind erratic impulses, 
the obedience to which may easily be followed by regret. 
Action taken without a clear foresight of consequences, 
with an imperfect conception of the relation of means 
to ends, is blind and irrational action. Reason, as bring- 
ing enlightenment, as making possible deliberation, as 
turning the incoherent clamors of a mob of inconsistent 
desires into the authoritative voice of an orderly delib- 
erative assembly, is not a faculty to be lightly regarded. 

Nor should it be forgotten that, neither to the plain 
man, nor to the moralist, do desires all stand upon the 
same level. He who bends his intellectual energies to 
the satisfaction of his greed, his avarice, his longing for 
revenge, may fairly be said to be prostituting his mind 
to the service of passion. But is it a proper use of 
language to describe as the slave of his passions the 

1 A Treatise of Human Nature, iv, § 3. 



RATIONALITY AND WILL 127 

man whose thought is set upon the enlightenment of 
mankind, the alleviation of suffering, the service of a 
state, the attainment of a noble character? Were Socrates, 
St. Francis, Abraham Lincoln, Wilberforce, Thomas Hill 
Green, the slaves of their passions? Yet these men were 
moved by certain dominant desires, and their unswerv- 
ing pursuit of their goal was made possible only by 
the reason that harmonized their lives and substituted 
deliberate purpose for random impulse. 

The doctrine, then, that the reason is to be likened 
rather to the presiding officer of a deliberative assembly, 
concerned only to give every voice a fair hearing, than 
to a legislator issuing commands independently, may be 
so stated as not to shock the sober-minded. 

And the doctrine recommends itself in showing that 
reason and inclination or desire are not enemies. The 
possession of reason must lead to the suppression of 
some desires — those incompatible with a comprehensive 
purpose deliberately embraced; but the desires and the 
reason or intelligence work together to a common end. 
On this view, it is not the rational man who is divided 
against himself; it is the short-sighted, the impulsive, 
the inconsistent, the irrational man. He is the prey of 
warring desires whose strife leads to no permanent peace 
under the guidance of reason. 

60. Another View of Reason. — To certain minds this 
view of reason as the arbiter and reconciler of man's 
impulses and desires does not appeal. 

Thus, Kant, whose doctrine will be more fully con- 
sidered later, 2 holds that man's reason promulgates a 
law which takes no account of the impulses and desires 
2 Chapter xxix. 



128 THE REALM OF ENDS 

of man. Thus, also, Henry Sidgwick, who differs from 
Kant in making the attainment of happiness the goal 
of human endeavor, and who, consequently, is not 
tempted to disregard the desires of man, yet refers to 
the reason independently certain maxims, which he re^ 
gards as self-evident, touching our own good and the 
good of our neighbor. 3 

There are certain considerations which appear to favor 
the view that the reason is a faculty which may be 
regarded as an independent law-giver. A man may be 
possessed of great intelligence; he may be well-informed, 
acute in his reasonings, and consistent in his strivings 
to attain some comprehensive end, which, on the whole, 
appears congruous to his nature, such as it is. Yet we 
may regard him as highly unreasonable. Judged by 
some higher standard which we look upon as approved 
by reason, he is found to fall short. Is reason, then, 
synonymous with intelligence? Or is it something more 
— the source of an ultimate standard of action, intui- 
tively known, and by which all man's actions must be 
judged? Upon this question light will be thrown in the 
pages following. 

3 The Methods oj Ethics, chapter iii. 



PART V 
THE SOCIAL WILL 



CHAPTER XVII 
CHARACTERISTICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

61. What is the Social Will? — The social will is not 
a mysterious entity, separate and distinct from all indi- 
vidual wills. It is their resultant. The resultant of two 
or more physical forces is a force; it has a character and 
may be described. The resultant of individual wills in 
interaction is a will with a given character which it is 
of no small importance for the moralist to comprehend. 
This will presents aspects closely analogous to those 
presented by the will of the individual. 

Thus, to begin with, a community of men may be said 
to will a vast number of things which have never been 
made by the members of the community the object of 
conscious reflection. It may unthinkingly move along 
the groove made for it by tradition. It may be intel- 
lectually upon so low a plane that even the possibility 
of acting in other ways does not occur to it. Nevertheless, 
ways of action thus unthinkingly pursued cannot prop- 
erly be said to be beyond the voluntary control of the 
community. A new situation may draw attention to the 
fact that they are unsatisfactory, lead to critical exam- 
ination, to inhibition, to deliberate change. Between the 
passive acceptance of actions prescribed by tradition and 
deliberate conscious choice in the presence of recog- 
nized alternatives there is no clear line of demarcation. 

131 



132 THE SOCIAL WILL 

Under the pressure of circumstances or with the grad- 
ual increase of information and intelligence the traditional 
may undergo slight modifications which scarcely rank 
as conscious departures from what has been passively 
accepted. The algebraic sum of such departures may, 
with the lapse of time, come to be by no means insignifi- 
cant, yet no individual may have exercised in any con- 
siderable degree conscious reflection or shown in any 
large measure freedom of choice. 

On the other hand, the social will may, at times, reveal 
itself in deliberate decisions, preceded by much conscious 
deliberation, and initiating wide departures from estab- 
lished usage. The presence of new enemies or a diminu- 
tion of the food- supply may awake a primitive commu- 
nity from its lethargy, leading it to modify its habits 
and adjust itself to new conditions. A barbarous horde 
may set out upon a career of conquest, and may introduce 
revolutionary changes into its manner of life. A civilized 
nation may come to the conclusion that, in the course 
of human events, it has become necessary for it to dis- 
solve the bands which have held it to another nation; 
it may frame for itself an independent constitution, 
embodying new ideals and prescribing a new form of 
corporate life. 

But, as in the case of the individual, so in that of 
the community, the tendency to fall again into a rut is 
always apparent. Laws, once enacted, lend a passive 
resistance to change, even when they no longer serve 
well the ends they were intended to serve. The indepen- 
dence of thought and action revealed in the adoption 
of new constitutions are not conspicuous in their main- 
tenance. Man collective, as well as man individual, falls 



CHARACTERISTICS OF SOCIAL WILL 133 

into habits, and he commits to his unthinking self what 
was wrought out by himself as thinking and consciously 
choosing. Passive acceptance of the traditional again 
wins the day and becomes a ruling factor in action. 1 

This tendency to mechanization should not surprise 
us, for we meet with the phenomenon everywhere. The 
man who says, " Good-by " today does not mean " God 
be with thee," and the " Griiss Dich Gott " of the Bava- 
rian peasant is very properly translated by the American 
child as " Hallo." The traditional tends to lose or to 
alter its meaning, but it continues to serve a purpose. A 
community without traditions, without settled ways of 
acting, followed, for the most part, without much 
reflection, would be in the position of a man without 
habits either good or bad. Human life as we know it 
could not go on upon such a basis. The rule has, at 
times, its inconveniences; but it leads somewhere, at 
least; whereas he who plunges into the unexplored forest 
may find every step a problem, and may come even to 
doubt whether any step is a step in advance. 

62. Social Will and Social Habits. — Within the prov- 
ince of the social will fall what may not inaptly be 
called the habits of a community — ways of acting ac- 
quired largely without premeditation and followed to 
a great extent through mere inertia. The province of 
the social will is a broad one. Deliberate choices ; those 
half-conscious choices analogous to the unheeded ex- 

1 " It is indisputable that much the greatest part of mankind 
has never shown a particle of desire that its civil institutions should 
be improved since the moment when external completeness was 
first given to them by their embodiment in some permanent 
record." Maine, Ancient Law, chapter ii. 



134 THE SOCIAL WILL 

pressions of preference which fill the days of the indi- 
vidual; impulses and tendencies which scarcely emerge 
into the light — all are expressions of the social will. 

In the next chapter I shall distinguish between customs 
proper and social habits in a broader sense. But, in 
discussing the general problem of the relation of habit 
to will, it is not necessary to mark the distinction. 

Some habits rest upon us lightly; some are inveterate. 
Of some we are well aware; others have to be pointed 
out to us before we recognize that we have them. Some 
we approve, some we disapprove, to some we are indul- 
gent or indifferent. All these peculiarities are found 
in the relation of the social will to social habits. It 
may recognize them, approve of them, encourage them. 
It may pay them little attention. It may disapprove 
them and strive to repress them. Will has brought them 
into being; it is will that maintains them; it is will that 
must modify or suppress them. 

As a matter of fact, all communities do tend to change 
their habits, some more slowly, some more rapidly. And 
for its habits we hold a community responsible. Com- 
mon sense refers them to its will, and exercises approval 
or disapproval. This it would not do were the prac- 
tices upon which judgment is passed recognized as be- 
yond the control of will altogether. 

63. Social Will and Social Organization. — Under the 
general heading of the habits of a society it is not 
out of place to discuss its social and political organ- 
ization. 

The fact that there never was an original social con- 
tract, made with each other by men solitary and unre- 
lated, with the deliberate intent of putting an end to the 



CHARACTERISTICS OF SOCIAL WILL 135 

war of all against all, does not signify that the social 
state in which men find themselves is a something with 
which the human will has had, and has, nothing to do. 

Social and political organization are the result of a 
secular process, but behind that process, as moving and 
directing forces, stand the will and the intelligence of 
man. The social and political organization of a com- 
munity is not the creation of any single generation 
of men. Each generation is born into a given social 
setting, as the individual is born into the setting fur- 
nished by the community. This social setting, the heri- 
tage of the community from the past, may be compared 
to a great estate brought together by the efforts of a 
man's ancestors, and transmitted to him to hold intact, 
to add to, to squander, as he may be inclined. It is a 
product attained by man's nature in its struggle with 
environment, and that product may be modified by the 
same forces that made it what it is. 

Into this heritage the generation of men who compose 
a community at any given time may enter with little 
thought of its significance, with no information, or with 
false information, touching the manner of its coming 
into being, and with small inclination to do anything 
save to leave unchanged the institutions of which it 
finds itself possessed. Nevertheless, the forms under 
which societies are organized are subject to the social 
will, and, if disapproved, are modified or abolished. 
Some change is taking place even where there is apparent 
immobility, as becomes evident when the history of 
institutions is followed through long periods of time. 
The utmost that can be said is that, where intelligence 
is little developed and energy at a low ebb, the social 



136 THE SOCIAL WILL 

will may bear the stamp of passive acceptance of the 
inherited, rather than exhibit a tendency to innovation. 
Will it remains, but we may hesitate to describe it as 
a free will. 

It is at times forced upon our attention with unmis- 
takable emphasis that the forms of social and political 
organization are under voluntary control. Momentous 
changes may be made deliberately, and with full con- 
sciousness of their significance. Among the more pro- 
gressive nations in our day the duty of introducing inno- 
vations appears to be generally recognized: constitutions 
are amended; the status of social classes is made the 
object of legislation; even the domain of the family is 
invaded, as in legislation touching marriage and divorce. 
Men appear to feel themselves free to will deliberately 
the end that shall be served by the mechanism of the 
state, and to adapt that mechanism to the attainment of 
the end chosen. 

64. The Social Will and Ideal Ends. — The social will, 
like the will of the individual, may manifest itself in 
decisions which it is obviously impossible to carry out to 
a completely successful issue. A community has a power 
of control over its members, but that control has its 
limits. Even a man's actions cannot be completely con- 
trolled by the community of which he is a part. There 
are always individuals who violate rules, and to whom, 
as it would seem, no motive can be presented which is 
adequate to keep them in the rut prescribed by society. 

Still less can the social will exercise full control over 
men's thoughts and feelings. Influenced to some degree 
they may be. A man may be kept in ignorance, or 
furnished with information calculated to determine his 



CHARACTERISTICS OF SOCIAL WILL 137 

thought in a given direction. His emotions may be 
played upon; he may be exhorted, rewarded, punished. 
But thoughts and feelings are not open to direct inspec- 
tion; they may be concealed or simulated. Much more 
readily than actions can they withdraw themselves from 
control. 

Nevertheless, the social will may, and does, ignore 
all such limitations to its powers. Laws are not passed 
to regulate the changes of the weather, which palpably 
fall outside the province of the law; but they are 
passed to regulate the actions of men, which normally 
fall within it; that is, which can, to a very significant 
degree, be influenced by the attitude of the social will. 
For the same reason laws may even take cognizance of 
men's thoughts. Of the accidental limitations of its 
power of control within the general sphere in which it 
has a meaning to speak of control, the social will is not 
compelled to take cognizance. It may set itself to en- 
courage or repress certain types of character and conduct, 
and take measures to attain the end it has selected. 
That the measures taken should sometimes prove inade- 
quate does not alter the fact of the choice of an end, nor 
does it obscure the revelation of the trend of the social 
will. 

Thus, a community may be said to will that its mem- 
bers shall not be guilty of violence; it may will to live 
at peace with other communities ; it may will to conquer 
and subjugate. Whether, in each case, the will shall be 
completely realized or not, may not be determined by 
the mere fact of its willing. Nevertheless, the permanent 
volitional attitude may be unmistakably present, and 
may reveal itself in strivings toward the chosen goal. To 



138 THE SOCIAL WILL 

describe this attitude as no more than wishing is 
manifestly to do it an injustice. 

65. The Permanent Social Will. — The social will 
may be regarded as something permanent. Its existence 
is not confined to those moments in which collective de- 
cisions are being made. The will to be one which con- 
stitutes a group of human beings a nation is not at all 
times actively exercised, but the settled disposition to 
action looking toward that end may be always present 
and ready to be called into action. An autocracy remains 
such when its irresponsible head is making no decisions; 
and a democracy is not such only w T hile elections are 
being held or the legislature is sitting. The organization 
of a society, the whole body of the usages which it 
accepts and approves, are revelations of the social will. 
That will does, it is true, give expression to itself in a 
series of actual decisions more or less conscious and 
deliberate, but it is far more than any such series of 
decisions. It is a disposition, rooted in the past and 
reaching into the future. It is a guarantee of decisions 
to come, of whose nature we may make some forecast. 

The permanent social will constitutes the character of 
a community. Our study of the will of the individual 
prepares us for the recognition of the fact that commu- 
nities may be but dimly aware of their own character, 
and may be quite unable to give an unbiassed account 
of the ideals which animate them. 



CHAPTER XVIII 
EXPRESSIONS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

66. Custom. — We have seen above that even the 
forms of political and social organization may justly be 
regarded as an expression of the social will. Such forms 
are the result of past choices, and their acceptance in 
the present is evidence of present choice. 

Between the organization of a society and its customs 
proper we may distinguish by comparing the former to 
structure and the latter to function in the case of any 
organism. But we must bear in mind that, here, structure 
has been built up by, and is in process of modification 
by, the same forces that exhibit themselves in function. 
It would not be wholly out of place to describe a people 
as having the custom of being ruled by hereditary chiefs, 
of choosing their monarchs, or of governing themselves 
through elected representatives. Forms of organization 
are handed down to successive generations by the same 
social tradition that transmits customs of every de- 
scription. 

Customs are public habits which are, on the whole, 
approved by a community. They are ways of acting 
which are regarded as normal and proper. Where the 
authority of custom is evoked, pressure is brought to 
bear upon the individual to adjust himself to the will 
of the community. 

139 



140 THE SOCIAL WILL 

A community, like an individual, may have habits 
which it does not approve. Such may be tolerated, al- 
though disapproved; or active efforts may be made to 
set them aside. Some habits may be regarded with 
comparative indifference, although professedly held in 
condemnation. The individual, in following such habits, 
may claim that they are not unequivocally condemned 
by the community, and he is not conscious of the weight 
of displeasure which visits the violation of the will of 
the community when unequivocally expressed. 

In simple and primitive societies custom prescribes 
to the individual his course of life in the minutest detail. 
It possesses the authority of the dictator. In societies 
upon a higher level it may leave to him some discretion 
in deciding upon the details of his daily life, while still 
exercising a paramount control over the general trend 
of his actions. 

Thus the will of the community, expressed in custom, 
determines what the members of the community ought 
to do, and it takes measures to enforce obedience to its 
decisions. Is it surprising that the names which have 
been given to the science which treats of man's rights 
and duties, morals, ethics (mores, ethica, Sitten) , should 
reflect this truth? It would be an inadequate statement 
to maintain that the science of morals is no more than 
a systematic exposition of the customary in human so- 
cieties. It is not an inadequate statement to assert that, 
in many societies, custom has, in fact, furnished the 
ultimate and complete standard of obligation, and that 
in all societies it is of enormous significance in moulding 
men's notions of right and wrong. 

67. The Ground for the Authority of Custom. — Hab- 



EXPRESSIONS OF SOCIAL WILL 141 

its are as essential to a society as they are to an indi- 
vidual human being. Without them, society could not 
live. In any social state — and no man can live except 
in a social state — there must be cooperation. How 
can there be cooperation if there are no social habits 
upon which men may count in their dealings with one 
another? 

Try to conceive all the tacit mutual conventions, the 
unconscious adaptations to custom, which guide our daily 
lives, suspended for twenty-four hours. When should 
one rise in the morning? How should one dress? What 
and how should one eat? Of business there could be 
no question, nor could there be cooperation in pleasures. 
Public order there could not be, for there would be no 
public worthy of the name. Protection of life and limb 
would be the creature of accident. Between civility and 
insult there would be no recognizable distinction. In 
short, men could not behave either well or ill, for there 
would be no rule to follow or to violate, nothing to 
expect, and, hence, no ground for disappointment. 

In such a chaotic condition no society of men has 
ever lived. No actual state of anarchy has ever been 
complete, nor could it be, and endure. A " reign of 
terror " is a reign of law in comparison with such a 
dissolution of all the bonds which knit man to man. 
When we pass from one community to another, we find 
one set of public habits exchanged for another. Some 
sets impress us as better, some as worse. But there is 
no set which is not better than none. It makes it possible 
for men to live, if not to live well. 

Customs are, then, a necessity. It is equally necessary 
that they should, in general, have binding force for the 



142 THE SOCIAL WILL 

individual. But there are customs good and bad. The 
individual may fall into habits which he, upon reflection, 
concludes to be injurious to him, and which others see 
clearly to be injurious. A community sufficiently enlight- 
ened to criticize itself at all, may come to disapprove 
some of its customs and may endeavor to abolish them. 

This means that a new act of the social will may set 
itself in opposition to the social will already crystallized 
into custom. In a given instance, and where there are 
differences of opinion, it may be a nice question whether 
the new or the old should be regarded as the authoritative 
expression of the social will. 

68. The Origin and the Persistence of Customs. — 
From the fact that customs are, in general, to be re- 
garded as expressions of the social will, it might be 
assumed that their purposive character and social utility 
should be a sufficient explanation of their coming into 
being. But the matter is not so simple. A man may 
fall into habits which are no indication of what he 
regards as useful to him. Such habits have not been 
formed independently of his will, and yet they may 
appear to be purposeless, or even detrimental. Who 
wishes to have the inveterate habit of cracking the joints 
of his fingers or of biting his finger-nails? What purpose 
do such habits serve? 

Although the social utility of customs, taken generally, 
is easily apparent, yet there are many customs which 
seem inexplicable upon such a principle. Why, for ex- 
ample, should the king of a primitive community be 
prohibited from sleeping lying down? or why should it 
be forbidden that he gaze upon the sea? x The origin of 

1 Encyclopedia Britannica, Eleventh edition, article " Taboo." 



EXPRESSIONS OF SOCIAL WILL 143 

such customs is hidden in obscurity. That their adoption 
was not without its reason, we may assume. That the 
reason was a reasonable one cannot be maintained. It 
seems probable, however, that it at some time seemed 
reasonable to some one. The persistence of habit, social 
as well as individual, would account for the perpetuation 
of the custom long after the occasion which gave rise 
to it had been forgotten. 

69. Law. — Between custom and law, taken generally, 
it is by no means easy to draw a sharp distinction, 
although, in some instances, the distinction may be 
clearly marked. In primitive communities, laws reduced 
to writing, and administered by persons deliberately 
chosen for that end, may be wholly lacking; and yet who 
would say that such communities do not live under the 
reign of law in a broad sense of the term? A course of 
life is prescribed to the individual; failure to come up 
to the standard meets with punishment. 

Nevertheless, as social life rises in the scale and as 
communities become developed, custom and law become 
differentiated. The latter stands out upon the back- 
ground of the former as something more sharply defined. 
Penalties and the method of their infliction are more 
exactly fixed. Not all violations of what is customary 
are taken up into the legal code as punishable offences, 
although they meet with that indefinite measure of pun- 
ishment entailed by social disapproval. 

Those public habits which it seems to a community 
it is of especial importance to preserve and enforce come 
to be embodied in laws. The selection is a matter of 
more or less deliberate choice, and is an expression of 
will. The choice is not, normally, an arbitrary one. 



144 THE SOCIAL WILL 

The laws of a people are, unless accident has intervened, 
the outcome and expression of its corporate life. For their 
ultimate authority they rest upon the acquiescence of the 
social will. Laws contrary to deep-seated and widely 
accepted custom are not apt to be regarded as of binding 
force. They are felt to be tyrannous, and are obeyed, if 
at all, unwillingly, and because of pressure from without. 

In a later chapter 2 I shall dwell upon the fact that 
the accidental may play a very significant role in law. 
In given instances the laws of a community may be, not 
the outcome of its will in any sense, but something im- 
posed upon it. Such laws cannot but be felt to be 
oppressive and a restriction of freedom. 

Laws, like customs, may cease to have a significance, 
and they may be modified or allowed to fall into desue- 
tude. There is, however, much conservatism, as all who 
are familiar with legal usage know. And laws may fail 
of their purpose. They may aim to diminish crime, and 
their undiscriminating severity may foster crime. So 
may the individual select an end, fall into error in his 
choice of means, and, as a result of experience, resolve 
to substitute for such means others which are better 
adapted to carry out his purpose. 

70. Public Opinion. — Public opinion is manifestly a 
force broader and more vague than established custom, 
and still broader than law. Public opinion may approve 
or condemn what no law touches, and it makes its 
influence felt beyond the sphere of what is customary. 

Where customs and laws come to be imperfect expres- 
sions of the social will, they may stand condemned by 
public opinion. In such a case their authority is under- 
2 Chapter xx. 



EXPRESSIONS OF SOCIAL WILL 145 

mined and violations of them are condoned. Where 
public opinion is strongly against a law, the law be- 
comes ineffective. The conservatism of law is such that 
a law may be allowed to stand unchanged, and yet may 
fail to be carried into effect. Juries may refuse to 
convict, or the unpalatable infliction of punishment may 
be avoided by granting to the judge a wide discretion in 
pronouncing sentence. 

The gradual development of a strong public sentiment 
may lead to the passage of new laws, not based upon 
previously established customs, but deliberately framed 
with a view to the public weal. Old customs may be 
modified and new customs may be introduced. That the 
recommendations of public opinion extend beyond the 
sphere of the customary is manifest. It is not the 
custom of most men to leave any large part of their 
estate to public charity. Except in the case of the very 
rich, the failure to do so is not, as a rule, expressly 
condemned. Yet such bequests are approved, the testa- 
tors are praised, and the attitude of public opinion has 
no small influence upon the conduct of individuals. Again, 
extreme self-sacrifice is not customary ; it is exceptional ; 
and yet shining examples of unselfishness excite a warm 
sympathy. The expression of this sympathy is not with- 
out its influence. 

Public opinion is more palpably an expression of the 
actual social will than are custom and law. We have 
seen that the last two may represent, in given instances, 
rather the inherited will of the past than the living will of 
the present. But when we call public opinion an ex- 
pression of the social will we cannot mean that it nec- 
essarily reflects the sentiment of all the members of a 
given community. 



146 THE SOCIAL WILL 

In primitive communities custom may be a public 
habit which embraces all, or nearly all, individuals. 
Public opinion may scarcely have a separate existence. 
In communities more developed, some individuals may 
disapprove and refuse to follow many customs which are 
characteristic of the society to which they belong. Laws 
are not approved by all, and, in progressive states, there 
is usually some agitation which has as its object the 
repeal of old laws or the passage of new ones. In com- 
munities where there is independence of thought, public 
opinion is usually divided. 

Furthermore, the communities to which civilized men 
belong are not homogeneous aggregations of units. There 
is the public opinion which obtains within single groups 
within the state. The adherents of a religious sect may 
have notions peculiar to themselves of the conduct proper 
to the individual, and such notions may extend far 
beyond what is actually prescribed by the tenets of the 
sect. The several trades and professions, the social 
classes, neighborhoods, even lesser voluntary associations 
of men, such as clubs, may be pervaded by a public 
sentiment which varies with each group. When we speak 
of public opinion generally we have in mind something 
broader, a resultant. But the public sentiment of the 
lesser groups cannot be ignored. The individual feels 
himself especially influenced by the opinions of those 
most nearly associated with him. 

Under the head of public opinion it is convenient to 
speak of the opinions of moral teachers who have in- 
fluenced the race. Such a thinker may enunciate truths 
far in advance of the opinions of his fellows. His teach- 
ings are not, hence, fairly representative of the social 



EXPRESSIONS OF SOCIAL WILL 147 

will as it reveals itself in his time. But the sentiments of 
the more enlightened never are completely in accord 
with those of the mass of their fellows. They are not 
mere aberrations from the social will ; they are its fore- 
runners. The moralist and the religious teacher initiate 
new choices, which may become the choices of large 
bodies of men. From them proceed influences which 
have their issue in new expressions of the social will, char- 
acterizing whole societies, and giving birth to new cus- 
toms, new laws, and a new form of public opinion. One 
can scarcely imagine what China would be without her 
Confucius; or the Arabic world, with Mahomet ab- 
stracted. 



CHAPTER XIX 
THE SHARERS IN THE SOCIAL WILL 

71. The Community. — It is difficult to state with 
absolute exactness what constitutes a community. 

We may define it as a group of human beings associ- 
ated in a common life, depending upon and cooperating 
with each other. This definition will apply, to be sure, 
to lesser groups within a tribe or state; and even to 
a collection of tribes or states in so far as such enter 
into alliances and cooperate to their mutual advantage. 
As, however, the bond of union is, in the former case, 
subordinate to the higher authority of a larger group 
(for the family is subject to the tribe or state) ; and as, 
in the latter case, the bond of union is a relatively loose 
one, and evidently subordinate to that which binds the 
citizens of individual states, the community proper may 
be regarded as that group which is characterized by a 
relatively great degree of inner coherence and by relative 
external independence. 

The type of such communities is, among the more 
primitive peoples, the tribe, and among the more devel- 
oped, the state. The authority of such groups over their 
own members is, theoretically, paramount, although it 
may be suspended or abolished by the exertion of force 
from without. 

Such a community may be said to be inspired by a so- 
cial will expressed in its customs, its laws and the public 

148 



SHARERS IN THE SOCIAL WILL 149 

opinion prevalent in it. Its members may be said to be 
sharers in the social will of the community. Their par- 
ticipation in it is marked by their being endowed with 
rights and charged with duties. 

It has not been characteristic of communities gen- 
erally that all who find their place in them should be 
like sharers in the social will. The distinction has been 
made between the citizen, who enjoys the fullest rights 
and may, perhaps, directly take part in the government 
of the state, and those who, while in the state, are not 
of it, as they do not enjoy citizenship. Where slavery, 
in any of its forms, has prevailed, the distinction be- 
tween those who are significant factors in determining 
the social will, and those who have not this prerogative, 
has been very marked. Social classes have often enjoyed, 
even before the law, privileges of great moment. Women 
have, as a rule, not been treated as citizens, and have 
been refused a share in the government of the community. 
Children are cared for and are protected, but political 
rights are denied them. Their status before the law 
is a peculiar one. The mentally defective, both in 
primitive communities and in developed ones, stand in 
a relation to the community peculiar to themselves. 
They are not excluded from it ; they are accorded rights ; 
but they are assigned in the community a place of their 
own. Wherever we look, we find inequality. The shar- 
ers in the social will do not share equally, nor do they 
share in the same way. This is true of communities of 
every description, but the differences are more marked 
in some than in others. 

72. The Community and the Dead. — It is not merely 
of the living human beings which compose a community 



150 THE SOCIAL WILL 

that the social will takes cognizance. Other wills are 
made participants in the body of rights and duties pecu- 
liar to the community. 

In many communities the dead are still counted among 
its members. They are conceived as affecting its wel- 
fare, and as demanding services from the living. Duties 
towards the dead are a well-recognized division of the 
sum of a man's obligations in communities the most 
diverse in their character. In some, they occupy a very 
prominent place; in no community are they wholly 
overlooked. A striking illustration of the recognition by 
the social will of the rights of the dead is to be found 
in the whole modern law of testamentary succession. 
The will expressed by a man while he is alive is given 
effect as though he were still in the flesh and insisted 
upon the fulfillment of his desire. It appears to work 
as a permanent factor in the community life, making 
its influence felt for generations. Witness its influence 
in charitable foundations, in the law of entail, and the 
like. 

73. The Community and the Supernatural. — Nor is 
it merely in recognizing the wills of the dead that the 
social will extends its sphere beyond the community of 
living human beings. To primitive man, and to man 
far from primitive, his social environment has not seemed 
to be limited to the living and the dead who have, or 
who have had, an undeniable and unequivocal place in 
the community. 

The part played in the life of man by supernatural 
beings of various orders has been a most significant one. 
Demons and gods, spirits of a lower or of a higher order, 
have occupied his mind and have influenced his actions. 



SHARERS IN THE SOCIAL WILL 151 

Such beings have been conceived to be, sometimes, malev- 
olent and needing to be placated, sometimes, benevolent 
and fit objects of gratitude. Their wills man has re- 
garded as forces to be taken into account, a something to 
which the individual and the community must adjust 
themselves. 

Man's relation, or supposed relation, to such beings has 
been a source of classes of duties upon which great stress 
has been laid. The influence of this admission of super- 
natural beings into the circle of those directly concerned 
in the community life has found its expression in the 
organization of the state, in custom, in law, in public 
opinion. We know little of a community when we over- 
look this factor. 

Between magic and religion it is not easy to draw 
a sharp line, especially when we view religion in the 
lower stages of its development. In both we have to 
do with what may be called the supernatural. Magic has 
been defined as the employment of mechanical means to 
attain the desired end. In religion, when it so far de- 
velops that its specific character seems clearly revealed, 
we have left the sphere of the mechanical. 

The distinction between the mechanical and the spir- 
itual is familiar to us in our dealings with our fellow- 
men. In such dealings we may employ physical force. 
On the other hand, we may appeal to their intelligence 
and their emotions, and thus influence their action. In 
so far as we do not make such an appeal, we deal with 
our fellows, not as though they belonged to our social 
environment, but to our physical. 

At the lowest stages of his development, man does 
not distinguish clearly between persons and things. This 



152 THE SOCIAL WILL 

means that he cannot distinguish clearly between his 
material environment and his social. But the distinction 
becomes gradually clearer, and it is, in the end, a marked 
one. Religion becomes differentiated from magic. To 
confound religion, in its higher developments, with magic 
is an inexcusable confusion. 

74. Religion and the Community. — The denotation 
of the term religion is a broad one, and there will prob- 
ably always be dispute as to the justice of its extension 
to this or to that particular form of faith. But it seems 
clear that it is typical of religion to extend what may 
not unjustly be called the social environment of man. 

Will is recognized other than the wills of the human 
beings constituting the community. To the part played 
by such wills a very great prominence may be given. 

States may be theocratic, as among the ancient He- 
brews; or church and state may share the dominion, or 
struggle between themselves for the supremacy, as in 
Europe in the Middle Ages; or the state may be theo- 
retically supreme in authority and yet maintain and 
lend authority to a church. Even where church and 
state are, in theory, quite divorced — a modern con- 
ception — the church with its ordinances and prescrip- 
tions, its sacred days, its ceremonial, its educational 
institutions, remains a very significant factor in the social 
environment of man. Religious duties have at all times 
and in all sorts of societies been regarded as constituting 
an important aspect of conduct. They color strongly 
the mores of the community. Whole codes of morals 
may be referred to the teachings of certain religious 
leaders. They claim their authority on religious grounds. 

The great significance of the role played by religion in 



SHARERS IN THE SOCIAL WILL 153 

the sphere of morals is impressed upon one who glances 
over the works of those writers who have approached 
the subject of ethics from the side of anthropology or 
sociology. A review of the facts has even tempted one 
of the most learned to seek the origin of morals almost 
wholly in religion. 1 

That religion should play an important part in giving 
birth to or modifying moral codes is not surprising. 
Man adjusts himself to his social environment as he 
conceives it. If the community of wills which he rec- 
ognizes includes the wills of supernatural beings, it is 
natural that the social will which finds its expression in 
the organization of the state, in custom, in law and in 
public opinion, should be modified by such inclusion. 

Nor is it surprising that the supernatural element 
should, at times, dwarf and render insignificant the 
other elements which enter into the social will. It may 
seem to man the all-important factor in his life. 

Within the human community some individuals count 
for much more than do others. There are those who 
scarcely seem to have any voice in contributing to the 
character and direction of the social will. Others are 
influential; and, in extreme cases, the wills of the few, 
or even that of a single individual, may be the source 
of law for the many. If men come to the conclusion 
that the weal and woe of the community are dependent 
upon the will of the gods, or of God, they will unavoid- 
ably give frank recognition to that will above others, 
and such recognition will dictate conduct. The gods 
of Epicurus, leading a lazy existence in the interstellar 

1 Wundt, Ethics, Vol. I, "The Facts of the Moral Life"; 
see chapters ii and iii. English Translation, London, 1897. 



154 THE SOCIAL WILL 

spaces, indifferent to man and in no wise affecting his 
life, could scarcely become the objects of a cult. But 
the God of the Mahometan, of the Jew, or of the Christ- 
ian, is a ruler to be feared, loved, obeyed. His will 
is law, and is determinative of conduct. 

75. The Spread of the Community. — So far I 
have been speaking of the community properly so called, 
of the single group of human beings living its corporate 
life. But such groups do not normally remain in iso- 
lation. As the isolation of the group diminishes, as 
contacts between it and others become more numerous 
and more important, the necessity of conventions con- 
trolling the relations of groups becomes more pressing. 

This implies the development of a broader social will, 
inclusive of the social wills of the several communities. 
This social will may be very feeble, and the bond be- 
tween men belonging to different communities may be 
a weak one; or it may be vigorous, and furnish an inti- 
mate bond. The savage, to whom those beyond the pale 
of his tribe or small confederation are mere strangers, 
and probably enemies, stands at the lower limit of the 
Bcale; the trader, to whom the stranger is co-partner in 
a mutually profitable transaction, stands higher; the 
Stoic philosopher, cosmopolitan in thought and feeling, 
rating the claims of kindred and country as less signi- 
ficant than the bonds which unite all men in virtue 
of their common humanity, marks the other extreme. 
The spread of the social will grows marked as man rises 
in the scale of civilization. Barriers are broken down 
and limits are transcended. 

This broader social will, like the narrower, reveals 
itself in the organization of society. We find confeder- 



SHARERS IN THE SOCIAL WILL 155 

ations of tribes or states; alliances temporary or rela- 
tively permanent. And the broader social will modifies 
customs, gives birth to systems of law, and encourages 
the development of an inclusive humanitarian sentiment. 

It does not necessarily obliterate old distinctions. The 
family, neighborhood, kindred, have their claims even 
under the most firmly organized of states; but those 
claims are limited and controlled. Even so, the broader 
social will may come to regard states as answerable for 
their decisions. International law remains to the present 
day what has aptly been called a pious wish. But 
public opinion prepares the way for law; and all states, 
whatever be their real aims, now attempt to justify 
their actions by an appeal to the more or less nebulous 
tribunal of international public opinion. In this they 
recognize its claim to act as arbiter. Within the 
jurisdiction of a state, the motto, " my family, right 
or wrong," would not be a maxim approved in a court of 
justice. International law is made a mock of by the 
frank enunciation of the maxim, " my country, right or 
wrong." Hence, such frankness is, in international re- 
lations, not encouraged. 

The more or less skillfully made appeal to the moral 
sense of mankind — to the broader social will as public 
opinion — implies a certain recognition of its authority, 
or, at least, of its influence. Whether this is a definite 
step toward the granting of a real authority to the 
broader social will, an authority which will curb impar- 
tially the selfishness of individual states, it remains for 
the future to decide. 



PART VI 
THE REAL SOCIAL WILL 



CHAPTER XX 
THE IMPERFECT SOCIAL WILL 

76. The Apparent and the Real Social Will. — It is 

important to distinguish between the apparent and the 
real social will. We may begin by pointing out that the 
question " apparent to whom? " is a pertinent one. 

The social will is brought to bear upon the individual 
through a variety of agencies. The family, the neigh- 
borhood, the church, the trade or profession, the politi- 
cal party, the social class — all these have their habits 
and maxims. They tend to mold to their type those 
whom they count among their members. The pressure 
which they bring to bear is felt as a sense of moral 
obligation. Naturally, individuals with different affili- 
ations will be sensible of the pressure in different ways, 
and may differ widely in their conceptions of the obli- 
gations actually laid upon the individual by the will 
of the greater organism of which he is a part. 

But even he who rises above minor distinctions and 
takes a broad view of society is forced to recognize that 
the distinction between the apparent and the real social 
will may be a most significant one. 

We have found the expression of the social will in 
custom, law and public opinion. This is just; but the 
statement must be accepted with reservations. 

There are instances in which neither the organization 
of the state, nor the laws according to which it is gov- 

159 



160 THE REAL SOCIAL WILL 

erned, can be considered as in any sense an expression 
of the social will. An autocracy, established by force, 
and ruling without the' free consent of the governed, is 
an external and overruling power. It may be obeyed, 
but it is not consented to. Nor is any body of law or 
system of government imposed upon a subject people by 
an alien and dominant race a fair exponent of the social 
will of the people thus governed. Custom and public 
opinion are at variance with law. However just and 
enlightened the government, as judged from the stand- 
point of some other race or nation, its control must be 
felt as oppressive by those upon whom it is imposed. 
Traditions felt to be the most sacred may be violated; 
moral laws, as understood by those thus under dictation, 
may be transgressed by obedience to the law of the land. 

Where custom, law and public opinion are more nearly 
the spontaneous outcome of the life of a community, 
they may with more justice be taken as expressions 
of the social will of that community as it is at the 
time. Yet, even here, we must make reservations. 

The organization of a state represents rather the 
crystallized will of the past than the free choice of the 
present. To be sure, it is accepted in the present; but 
this is little more than the acquiescence of inertia. And 
public opinion may be at variance both with custom 
and with law long before it succeeds in modifying either. 
What is the actual social will of a community during the 
interval? 

The past may be felt as exercising a certain tyranny 
over the present. That the present cannot be cut wholly 
loose from it is manifest, but how far should its depen- 
dence be accepted? In the past there have been historical 



THE IMPERFECT SOCIAL WILL 161 

causes for the rise of dictatorships, of oligarchies, of 
dominant social classes. The men of a later time inherit 
such social institutions, may accept them as desirable, 
or may feel them as instruments of tyranny. Shall we 
say that they represent the actual social will of the 
community until such time as they are done away with 
by a successful revolution? Or shall we say that they 
are in harmony with the apparent social will only, and 
really stand condemned? 

77. The Will of the Majority. — Our own democratic 
institutions rest upon the theory that the social will 
is to be determined by the majority vote. To be sure, 
we seem to find it necessary to limit the application 
of this doctrine, and to seek stability of government by 
fixing, in certain cases rather arbitrarily, the size of the 
majority that shall count. 1 But the doctrine, taken 
generally, does seem in harmony with the test of 
rationality developed above. 2 It aims at the satis- 
faction of many desires — at what may be termed satis- 
faction on the whole. 

Nevertheless, it is possible to question whether the 
vote of the majority represents, in a given instance, 
the actual will of the community. 

No one knows better than the practical politician 
how the votes of the majority are obtained. No one 
knows better than he that, in the most democratic of 
communities, it is the wills of the few that count. The 
organization of a party, clever leadership, the command 
of the press, the catching phrases of the popular orator, 
the street procession, the brass band, the possession of 

1 See the Constitution of the United States, Article V. 

2 Chapter xvi. 



162 THE REAL SOCIAL WILL 

the ability to cajole and to threaten — these play no 
mean role in the outcome, which may be the adoption 
of a state policy of which a large proportion of the 
majority voting may be quite unable to comprehend 
the significance. Shall we say, in such a case, that the 
will of the majority was for the ultimate end? Or 
shall we say that the vote was in pursuance of a 
multitude of minor ends, many of which had but an 
accidental connection with the ultimate end? 

78. Ignorance and Error and the Social Will. — The 
apparent will of the community appears to be, in large 
measure, an accidental thing. That is to say, men will 
what they would not will were they not hampered by 
ignorance and error, and were they not incapable of 
taking long views of their own interests. 

The decisions of the social will may be the outcome 
of ignorance and superstition. 

Where it is thought necessary to punish the accidental 
homicide in order to appease the ghost of the dead 
man, which might otherwise become a cause of harm, 
the course of justice, if one may call it such, deviates 
from what the enlightened man must regard as normal. 
The belief that sin is an infection, communicable by 
heredity or even by contact, must lead to similar aber- 
rations of primitive justice. Animals, and even material 
things, have, and not by peoples the most primitive, 
been treated as rational, responsible and amenable to 
law. This seems to do the brutes more than justice. 
On the other hand, the philosophical tenet of the Car- 
tesians, which denied a mind to the brutes, resulted in no 
little cruelty. The treatment of drunkards, and of the 
mentally defective, has, at times, been based upon the 



THE IMPERFECT SOCIAL WILL 163 

notion that they are possessed by god or demon, and, 
hence, have a right to peculiar consideration, or may 
be treated with extreme rigor. 

It is worth while to follow up the above reference 
to the Cartesians by a reference to St. Augustine. Trains 
of reasoning based upon theological or philosophical 
tenets have more than once given rise to aberrations 
of the moral judgment. 

The intellectual subtlety of Augustine betrays him into 
magnifying to enormous proportions the guilt of the 
boyish prank of stealing green pears from the garden of 
a neighbor, inspired by the agreeable thought of the 
irritation which would be caused by the theft. The 
pears were not edible, and were thrown to the pigs, 
which circumstance seduces this father of the Church 
into the reflection that the sin must have been com- 
mitted for no other end than for the sake of sinning. 
A greater crime than this he cannot conceive. 

Many years after the event, in writing his Confessions, 
he expresses in unmeasured terms his horror of the 
deed, filling seven chapters 3 with his reflections and 
lamentations: " Behold my heart, God, behold my 
heart, upon which thou hadst mercy when in the depths 
of this bottomless pit." a O corruption! monster of 
life and depth of death! Is it possible that I liked to 
do what I might not, simply and for no other reason 
than because I might not? " 

Saint as he was, Augustine would have made a sorry 
schoolmaster. It is evident that the enlightened mind 
cannot regard schoolboys as unique monsters of iniquity 
for making a raid on an orchard. 

3 Confessions, chapters iv-x. 



164 THE REAL SOCIAL WILL 

The community whose decisions are made under the 
influence of erroneous preconceptions undoubtedly wills, 
but its will is determined by the accident of ignorance. 
It is to be likened to the man who, in unfamiliar sur- 
roundings, takes the wrong road in his desire to get 
home. He chooses, but he does not choose what he 
would if he knew what he was about. 

79. Heedlessness and the Social Will. — Numberless 
illustrations might be given of the fact that, not merely 
ignorance and error, but also a short-sighted heedless- 
ness plays no small part in introducing elements of the 
accidental and irrational into the social will. The man 
who spends freely with no thought for the morrow is 
not more irrational than the state that permits a squan- 
dering of its resources, and wakes up too late only to 
discover that it has lost what cannot easily be replaced. 

The life of the community is a long one, and calls 
for long views of the interests of the community. These 
are too often lacking. Heedlessness and indifference are 
a fertile source of abuses. In which case, the will of the 
community resembles that of the impulsive and erratic 
man, who has too little foresight and self-control to 
consult consistently his own interests. We may say 
that he desires his own good on the whole, but we can- 
not say that he desires it at all times. Future goods 
disappear from his view. His choices clash. His actual 
will at any given moment appears to be the creature of 
accident. So it may be with the community. 

80. Rational Elements in the Irrational Will. — The 
actual social will, as revealed in custom, law and public 
opinion, often appears, thus, highly irrational, and we 
may be justified in distinguishing between it and the 



THE IMPERFECT SOCIAL WILL 165 

real will which we conceive of as struggling to get itself 
expressed. Nevertheless, in justice to custom, law and 
public opinion, we must look below the surface of things. 
Even where the decisions of the community seem most 
irrational, and where there appears to be little con- 
sciousness of the ends pursued by the real will, the dis- 
criminating observer may see that pure irrationality does 
not prevail. The individual may show by his actions 
that he has comprehensive ends, and may yet not be 
distinctly aware of them. So may a community of men. 
" The true meaning of ethical obligations," says 
Hobhouse, 4 " — their bearing on human purposes, their 
function in social life — only emerges by slow degrees. 
The onlooker, investigating a primitive custom, can see 
that moral elements have helped to build it up, so that 
it embodies something of moral truth. Yet these ele- 
ments of moral truth were perhaps never present to the 
minds of those who built it. Instead thereof we are 
likely to find some obscure reference to magic or to the 
world of spirits. The custom which we can see, perhaps, 
to be excellently devised in the interests of social order 
or for the promotion of mutual aid is by those who 
practice it based on some taboo, or preserved from viola- 
tion from fear of the resentment of somebody's ghost." 
It is not wholly irrational that, in the laws of various 
peoples, an allowance should be made for the sudden 
resentment which flames up when wrong has been suf- 
fered, and that an offence grown cold should be treated 
more leniently than one which is fresh and the smart 
caused by which has not had time to suffer diminution. 
Society has to do with men as they are. It is its task 

4 Morals in Evolution, New York, 1906, p. 30. 



166 THE REAL SOCIAL WILL 

to bend the will of the individual into conformity with 
the social will. That resentment for wrongs suffered is 
an important element in the establishment of order in 
the community can scarcely be denied, nor is it wholly 
unreasonable, men being what they are, for the com- 
munity to make some concessions to the natural feeling 
of the individual. Moreover, the offender caught in the 
act is indubitably the real offender; and settled ani- 
mosities are more injurious to the social order than are 
fugitive gusts of passion. 

And if it is true that the arbitrary laws of hospitality, 
as recognized by some primitive and half-civilized com- 
munities, are reinforced by the superstitious fear of the 
stranger's curse, it is none the less true that they serve 
certain social needs. The fact that hospitality tends 
to decline when it becomes superfluous is sufficient to 
indicate its social significance. 

Again, collective responsibility — the making of a man 
responsible for the delinquencies of those connected with 
him, even when he could in no way have prevented 
the evils in question — appears to modern civilized man, 
in most instances, 5 an irrational thing. Yet men are 
actually knit into groups with common interests and 
accustomed to cooperation. To treat them as wholly 
independent units, responsible only to some higher organ- 
ization such as the state, is to overlook actual relation- 
ships which have no small influence in determining the 
course of their lives. Within each lesser group the 
members can and do encourage or repress given types 

5 Only under normal conditions. We have recently had 
abundant opportunity to see that in time of war civilized nations 
have no scruples in making the innocent suffer with the guilty, 
or even for the guilty. 



THE IMPERFECT SOCIAL WILL 167 

of action beneficial or the reverse. Is it irrational for 
the larger group to set such influences to work by holding 
the lesser group responsible in its collective capacity? 
In China the principle has worked with some measure 
of success as an instrument of order for many centuries. 
In an enlightened society some better method of attain- 
ing order may obtain, but it would be a mistake to assume 
that there is nothing behind the principle of collective 
responsibility save the unintelligent attempt to satisfy 
resentment by striking indirectly at the offender through 
those connected with him, or the mental confusion that 
identifies the culprit, through mere association of ideas, 
with other members of the group to which he belongs. 

81. The Social Will and the Selfishness of the Indi- 
vidual. — There is, then, often some reason to be dis- 
covered even in what appears at first sight to be wholly 
irrational. But no small part of the irrationality of the 
actual social will must be set down, in the last instance, 
to that peculiar form of irrationality in the individual 
or in groups of individuals which we call selfishness. 

That some degree of inequality should be necessary 
in communities of men, in view of the differentiation 
of function implied in cooperative effort, may be admitted. 
How far the inherited organization or the existing en- 
vironment of a given community may make it necessary, 
in the interests of all, to grant a large measure of power 
or prerogative to a single individual, or to the few, is 
fair matter for investigation. But the most cursory 
glance at the pages of history, the most superficial 
survey of the present condition of mankind, must make 
it evident that a far-seeing and enlightened social will 
has not been the determining factor in bringing into 



168 THE REAL SOCIAL WILL 

existence many of the institutions which are accepted by 
the actual social will of a given epoch. 

Neither Alexander the Great nor Napoleon can be 
regarded as true exponents of the social will. The rule 
of the oligarchy is based upon selfish considerations. 
The institution of slavery overrides the will of the bonds- 
man in the interests of his possessor. The perennial 
struggle between the " haves " and the " have nots " 
■ — the rich and the poor — is, unfortunately, carried on 
by those engaged in it with a view to their own interests 
and not with a view to the good of society as a whole. 

That those to whom especial opportunities are, by the 
accident of their position, open, or by whom special 
rights are inherited, should accept the situation as right 
and proper is not to be wondered at. All rights and 
duties have their roots in the past, and conceptions of 
what is feasible and desirable are always influenced by 
tradition. While from the standpoint of the real social 
will anomalous and accidental it is nevertheless psy- 
chologically explicable and natural that the mediaeval 
knight should be bound by the rules of chivalry only in 
his dealings with those of his own rank ; that the murder 
of a priest should be regarded as a crime of a special 
class; that benefit of clergy should be extended to a 
limited number of those guilty of the same offence ; that 
the lists of the deadly sins should, in an age dominated 
by the monastic idea, smack so strongly of the cloister. 

Natural it is, and, perhaps, inevitable, that such ex- 
pressions of the social will should make their appearance. 
They have their place in the historic evolution of society. 
But they betray the fact that man is imperfectly rational. 
They cannot be regarded as expressions of the permanent 
rational will which belongs to man as man. 



CHAPTER XXI 
THE RATIONAL SOCIAL WILL 

82. Reasonable Ends. — We have seen in the chapter 
on " Rationality and Will," that we cannot con- 
sider a man rational unless his choices are har- 
monized and converge upon some comprehensive end. 
It has been hinted, furthermore, that not all comprehen- 
sive ends can be described as reasonable or rational. 

A child may be consistently disobedient to its parents, 
and, given parents of a certain kind, it may find its 
life highly satisfactory. A man may consistently be a 
bad neighbor, and may harbor the conviction that, on 
the whole, he gains by it. A miser may be consistent; 
he may come to joy in denying himself luxuries and 
even comforts, repaid in the consciousness of an increas- 
ing store. The philosophical egoist may reason with 
admirable consistency, and may habitually act in accord- 
ance with his convictions, leading, for him, a very 
endurable life. 

All these may be intelligent, even acutely intelligent, 
and may reason clearly and well. Nevertheless, men 
generally refuse to consider their behavior reasonable. 
There are ends which we regard as rational, and others 
which we condemn as irrational. 

It is not enough, hence, that a man's volitions should 
be intelligently harmonized and unified. His will must 
be adjusted to ends which themselves can be judged 
rational. 

169 



170 THE REAL SOCIAL WILL 

And in deciding whether the ends he chooses are 
rational or not, we proceed just as we do in judging 
the rationality of his individual choices. If the latter 
are made in the light of information, if their significance 
is realized, if they converge upon some comprehensive 
end and do not merely clash and defeat one another, 
we have seen that they are made under the guidance of 
reason or intelligence. The individual volitions are 
congruous with the permanent set of the man's will. 
They are judged by their background, by their harmony 
with the " pattern " which is revealed in the man's voli- 
tional life. 

Even so, each such volitional pattern, the harmonized 
and unified will of the individual as directed upon some 
comprehensive end, is judged to be rational or not ac- 
cording as it does or does not accord with the ends 
pursued by the social w T ill. Individuals, whose wills are 
thoroughly unified and harmonized by the dominant 
influence of given chosen ends, may be thoroughly out 
of harmony with the chosen ends of the larger organism 
of which they are a part. They may be out of harmony 
with each other. Considered alone, each may display 
an internal order and unity. Taken together they may 
be seen to be in open strife. 

We have found the social will to be something rel- 
atively permanent and moving with more or less con- 
sistency toward certain comprehensive ends. That the 
ends chosen by given individuals may be very much 
out of harmony with these is palpable. The deliberate 
idler, the whole-hearted epicure, the habitually untruth- 
ful man, the miser, the cold egoist — these and such 
as these are condemned in enlightened communities. 



THE RATIONAL SOCIAL WILL 171 

Their lives do not help to further, but serve to frustrate, 
the ends approved by the social will. In so far they 
may be regarded as consistently irrational. 

83. An Objection Answered. — Consistently irra- 
tional! it may be exclaimed; how can that be? is not 
a far-sighted consistency the very mark of rational 
choice? 

The difficulty is only an apparent one. Many forms 
of consistency may indicate a certain degree of rational- 
ity, and yet too slight a degree to win approval. There 
is such a thing as a narrow consistency. He who devotes 
his life to the purpose of revenge, may live consistently, 
but he loses much. A bitter and angry life is not a desir- 
able thing, even from the standpoint of the individual. 

But why should we limit ourselves to the standpoint 
of the individual, in judging of the rationality of ends? 
There are those to whom it appears self-evident that 
this should be done; those to whom it does not seem 
reasonable for a man to do anything by which he, on 
the whole, loses; those who deny the reasonableness of 
self-sacrifice in any form. This doctrine will be ex- 
amined later. 1 

Here it is enough to point out that men do not actually 
limit the notion of rationality in this w T ay. In every, 
even moderately, rational life some desires must be 
suppressed. All desires cannot be satisfied. Why should 
it not be regarded as rational and reasonable that, to 
attain the comprehensive ends of the social will, cer- 
tain ends consistently chosen by certain kinds of individ- 
uals should deliberately be denied? 

As a matter of fact, men generally do so regard it. 

i See §§ 102 and 128. 



172 THE REAL SOCIAL WILL 

They employ the terms rational and irrational, reasonable 
and unreasonable, to indicate the harmony or lack of 
harmony between the individual and the social will. 
We call the man unreasonable who insists upon having 
his own way regardless of his fellows; and this, even 
in instances in which his fellows cannot punish him for 
his selfish attitude. 

It is not a matter of accident that this should be so. 
The analogy between the relation of separate volitions 
to the dominant ends which control action on the part 
of the individual, and the relation of the ultimate choices 
of individuals to the ends pursued by the social will, is 
a close one. In the well-ordered mind the clash of con- 
flicting desires is reduced to a minimum. In a well- 
ordered community the conflict of individual wills is 
also reduced to a minimum. In each case, we are con- 
cerned with the work of reason, and judgments as to 
rationality and irrationality are equally in place. 

84. Reasonable Social Ends. — The will of the individ- 
ual, when affirmed to be rational or irrational, is, there- 
fore, referred to the background of the social will. But 
the social will is more or less different in different com- 
munities, and in the one community at different stages 
of its development. Is there any measure of the degree 
of rationality of the social will itself? is there any stand- 
ard to which its different expressions may be referred? 

We may criticise a community as we criticise an 
individual man even when he is taken as abstracted from 
his social setting. The man's choices may be blind, con- 
flicting, wayward, and ill-adapted to serve his interests 
taken as a whole. In the last chapter we saw that a 
community may resemble such a man. It may be ig- 



THE RATIONAL SOCIAL WILL 173 

norant, superstitious, short-sighted, and in conflict with 
itself. The social will as actually revealed may be 
an imperfect and inconsistent thing. Here enlighten- 
ment and inner harmonization are called for, to set the 
social will free. 

But even where the will of a community is something 
more definite and consistent than this, it may be con- 
demned by the moral judgment of the enlightened. An 
appeal may be made from the will of the community 
in the narrower sense to that of the larger community. 
The limits of nation, race and religion may be trans- 
cended, and we may appeal to humanity as such, re- 
fusing to recognize the will of any lesser unit as really 
ultimate. He who occupies the one standpoint is apt to 
speak of defending his legitimate rights, or of extending 
to subject races the blessings of civilization. He who 
takes his stand upon the other may talk of lust of 
dominion, or desire for economic advantage. The one 
may use the term righteous indignation; the other, the 
word anger. The moral judgment passed upon an act 
depends upon the concept under which men manage to 
bring it. What is approved by the tribal ethics may be 
abhorrent to the ethics of humanity. 

But the larger social will, so far as it has gotten 
itself expressed at all, seems to remain something vague 
and indefinite. It is appealed to as rational; but how 
indicate clearly the end which it sets before itself and the 
obligations which it lays upon mankind? 

The difficulty of describing in detail the ultimate ends 
of the real social will has led some writers to speak in 
terms of exaggerated vagueness. The mere idea in a 
man " of something, he knows not what, which he may 



174 THE REAL SOCIAL WILL 

and should become" can give little guidance to action; 
nor can one aim with much confidence at a goal of 
which " we can only speak or think in negatives." 2 

But it is not necessary to speak in this way. We 
may form some conception of the real, rational social 
will, without being compelled to know all that man 
is capable of becoming and without being able to fore- 
cast the details of his environment in the distant future. 

We may attain to our conception by determining 
clearly the nature of the aims man sets before himself 
in proportion to his growing rationality. We can see 
in what direction man moves as he develops and becomes 
enlightened. From this standpoint, the aims of the ra- 
tional social will appear to be as follows: 

(1) The harmonious satisfaction of the impulses and 
desires of man. 

(2) Such an unfolding of his powers as will increase 
their range and variety, broaden man's horizon, and 
give him an increased control over erratic impulses. 

(3) The bringing about of a social state in which 
the will of each individual within a community counts 
for something, and not merely the will of a chosen few. 

(4) The broadening of the conception of what con- 
stitutes a community, so that ever increasing numbers 
are regarded as having claims that must be recognized. 

(5) The taking into consideration of the whole of 
life; the whole life of individuals and of communities, 
so that the insistent present shall not be given undue 
weight, as against the future. 

2 Prolegomena to Ethics, § § 192, 172, 180. But Green is not 
always so indefinite. He is on the right track. He reverences 
the social will and the historical development of the social order. 



THE RATIONAL SOCIAL WILL 175 

85. The Ethics of Reason. — The doctrine of the Ra- 
tional Social Will might very properly be called the 
Ethics of Reason. It is not to be confounded with the 
so-called " tribal " or " group " ethics. To be sure, it 
has to do with man as a social being, but this is character- 
istic of ethical systems generally. Man is a social being; 
he is one essentially, and not accidentally. That he 
should be a member of a tribe, or of any lesser group 
than the whole body of sentient and reasonable beings, 
may not unjustly be regarded as an historical accident, 
as a function of his position in the scale of development. 

In judging the doctrine of the rational social will, 
bear in mind the following: 

(1) It rests upon the basis of the impulsive and vo- 
litional nature of man. 

(2) It recognizes reason in the individual, and declares 
that only so far as he is rational is he the proper subject 
of ethics at all. Erratic and uncontrolled impulse knows 
no moral law. 

(3) It sees reason in the customs, laws and public 
opinion of the tribe or the state, while recognizing a 
higher tribunal before the bar of which all these are 
summoned. 

(4) It appeals to the reason of the race — the reason 
appropriate to the race as enlightened and freed from 
the shackles of local prejudice and restricted sympathy. 

(5) It recognizes that man can give expression to his 
nature, can satisfy his desires and exercise his reason, 
only as aided by his physical and social environment. It 
emphasizes the necessity of a certain reverence for the 
actual historical development of human societies, with 
their institutions. Such institutions are the embodiment 



176 THE REAL SOCIAL WILL 

of reason — not pure reason, but reason struggling to 
get itself expressed as it can. He who would legislate 
for man independently of such institutions has left the 
solid earth and man far behind. He is suspended in 
the void. 

86. The Development of Civilization. — Civilizations 
differ; some are more material, laying stress upon man's 
conquest of his material environment. Others exhibit 
a greater appreciation of idealistic elements, the pursuit 
of knowledge for its own sake, the cultivation of the 
fine arts, the development of humanitarian sentiment. 
For civilization in general it is not necessary to advance 
an argument. But there are elements in many civili- 
zations which the thoughtful man may feel called upon 
to defend. 

Civilization, taken generally, scarcely needs a labored 
justification because it is only in a civilization of some 
kind or other that we can look for a guarantee of the 
broad social will, for the reign of reason. Undeveloped 
man is at the mercy of nature ; he is the sport of history. 
Where developed man can raise his voice, man possessed 
of power and capable of taking broad views of things, 
the rule of reason may be set up. A deliberate attempt 
may be made to recognize many wills, harmonize dis- 
cords. Order may be brought out of chaos, and the 
limits of the realm within the borders of which order 
reigns may be indefinitely extended. 

Such is the general ethical justification for the rise 
of a civilization. It is an expression of, and an instru- 
ment for the realization of, the broader social will. That 
a given civilization may be imperfect in both respects 
has been made clear in the last chapter. In the light 



THE RATIONAL SOCIAL WILL 177 

of the general justification for civilization many ques- 
tions may be raised touching this or that element in 
civilizations as we observe them. 

Thus, it may be pointed out that as man progresses 
in civilization he calls into being a multitude of new 
wants, many of which may have to remain unsatisfied. 3 
It may be asserted that literature, art and science are, in 
fact, cherished as though they were ends in themselves, 
and not means called into existence to serve the interests 
of man. Absorbing as it may be to him, how can the 
philologist prove that his science is useful to humanity 
either present or prospective? How shall the astronomer, 
who may frankly admit that he cannot conceive that 
nine tenths of the work with which he occupies himself 
can ever be of any actual use to anyone, justify himself 
in devoting his life to it? Shall a curiosity, w r hich seems 
to lead nowhere, be satisfied? And if so, on what ground? 

Moreover, every civilization recognizes that some wills 
are to be given a more unequivocal recognition than 
others. Inequality is the rule. A man does not put his 
own children upon a level with those of his neighbor. 
Even in the most democratic of states men do not stand 
upon the same level. In dealing with our own fellows 
we do not employ the same weights and measures as 
in dealing with foreigners. Who loses his appetite for his 
breakfast when he reads that there have been inundations 
in China or that an African tribe has come under the 
" protection " of a race of another color? The white 
man has added to his burden — the burden of economic 
advantage present or prospective — and we find it as 
it should be. 

3 Compare chapter xxx, § 142. 



178 THE REAL SOCIAL WILL 

Finally, when we bring within our horizon the " in- 
terests " of humbler sentient creatures, we see that they 
are unhesitatingly subordinated to our own. Some atten- 
tion is paid to them in civilized communities. They are 
recognized, not merely by custom and public opinion, 
but, to some degree, even by law. Men are punished for 
treating certain animals in certain ways. But why? 
Have the animals rights? There is no topic within the 
sphere of morals upon which moralists speak with more 
wavering and uncertain accents. 4 

I know of no way in which such problems as the 
above can be approached other than by the appeal to 
reason, as reason has been understood in the pages pre- 
ceding. The reign of reason implies the recognition of 
all wills, so far as such a recognition is within the bounds 
of possibility. The escape from chaos lies in the evolution 
of the enlightened social will. Man must be raised in 
the scale, in order that he may have control; control 
over himself, over other men, over the brutes. And 
he cannot rise except through the historical evolution 
of a social order. This implies the development of the 
capacities latent in man. 

To decide that any of his capacities shall be allowed 
to remain dormant may threaten future development. 
To cut off certain arts and sciences as not palpably 
serving the interests of man is a dangerous thing. To 
ignore the actual history of man's efforts to become a 
rational being, and to place, hence, all wills upon the 
one level, is to frustrate the desired end. It is not thus 
that the reign of reason can be established. 

4 See chapter xxx, § 141. 



CHAPTER XXII 
THE INDIVIDUAL AND THE SOCIAL WILL 

87. Man's Multiple Allegiance. — We have seen that 
each man has his place in a social order. This order 
is the expression and the embodiment of the social will, 
which accepts him, protects him, gives him a share in 
the goods the community has so far attained, recog- 
nizes his individual will in that it accords to him rights, 
and prescribes his course of conduct, that is, defines his 
duties or obligations. 

The social will is authoritative ; it issues commands and 
enforces obedience. With its commands the individual 
may be in sympathy or he may not. But upon obedience 
the social will insists, and it compasses its ends by the 
bestowal of rewards or the infliction of punishment. The 
moral law to which man thus finds himself subject is 
something not wholly foreign to the nature of the indi- 
vidual. It has come into being as an expression of the 
nature of man. That nature the individual shares with 
his fellows. 

Obedience to the social will would be a relatively 
simple matter were that will always unequivocally and 
unmistakably expressed, and did all the members of 
a community feel the pressure of the social will in the 
same manner and to the same degree. But the whole 
matter is indefinitely complicated by what may be called 
man's multiple allegiance. 

179 



180 THE REAL SOCIAL WILL 

Organized societies do not consist of undifferentiated 
units. They are not mere aggregates, but are highly 
complex in their internal constitution. A conscientious 
man may feel that he owes duties to himself, to his 
immediate family, to his kindred, to his neighborhood, 
to his social class, to his political party, to his church, 
to his country, to its allies, to humanity. The social 
will does not bring its pressure to bear upon the man 
who holds one place in the social order just as it does 
upon him who holds another. 

Nor are the injunctions laid upon a man always in 
harmony. The demands of family may seem to conflict 
with those of neighborhood or of profession; duties to 
the church may seem to conflict with duties to the state; 
patriotism may appear to be more or less in conflict with 
an interest in humanity taken broadly. That the individ- 
ual should often approach in doubt and hesitation the 
decision as to what it is, on the whole, his duty to do, is 
not surprising. Nor is it surprising that individuals the 
most conscientious should find it impossible to be at one 
on the subject of rights and duties. Two men may agree 
perfectly that it is right to " do good," and be quite 
unable to agree just what good it is right to do now, 
or with whom one should make a beginning. 

88. The Appeal to Reason. — Were there no appeal 
save to the social will as it happens to make its pressure 
felt upon this person or that, in this situation or that, 
there could be no issue to dispute. Dispute would be 
useless and sheer dogmatism would prevail. But there is 
such an appeal and men do make it, where they are in 
any degree enlightened. It is the appeal to Reason. 

He who says: "I have especial rights, just because 



INDIVIDUAL AND THE SOCIAL WILL 181 

I am Smith, and so has my father, because he is my 
father," has no ground of argument with Jones, who 
says: " I have especial rights because I am Jones, and 
so has my father, because he is my father." Upon such 
a basis, or lack of basis, all discussion becomes fatuous. 
But if Smith and Jones agree that duties to self should 
only within limits be recognized, and that duties to family 
have their place upon the larger background of the will 
of the state, they may, at least, begin to talk. 

The multiple allegiance of the individual does not 
mean that a man is subject to a multitude of independent 
masters whose several claims have no relation to one 
another. An appeal may be made from lower to higher. 

We have seen that, in the organization of a given 
society, .the social will may be imperfectly expressed. 
It may come about that the place in the social order 
assigned to a man cramps and pains him, or forces him 
to exertions which seem intolerable. He may passively 
accept it, or he may set himself in opposition to the 
social will as it is, appealing to a better social will. The 
fact that an individual finds himself out of harmony 
with given aspects of the social will characteristic of 
his age and country is no proof that he desires to set 
himself up in opposition to the social will in general. 

In a given instance, he may be, from the standpoint 
of existing law, a criminal. Yet he may reverence the 
law above his fellows. His aberrations need not be 
arbitrary wanderings, prompted by selfish impulses. He 
may leave the beaten track because he does not approve 
of it, which is a very different thing from disliking it. 
Some will judge him to be a pestilent fellow; some will 
rate him as a reformer, a prophet, perhaps a martyr. 



182 THE REAL SOCIAL WILL 

Neither judgment is of the least value so long as it 
reflects merely the tastes or prejudices of the individual. 
Each must justify itself before the bar of reason, if it 
would have a respectful hearing. A reason must be 
given for conservatism and a reason must be given for 
reform. 

89. The Ethics of Reason and the Varying Moral 
Codes. — Several advantages may be claimed for the 
ethical doctrine I have been advocating: 

(1) It gives a relative justification to the varying 
moral codes of communities of men in the past and in the 
present. A code may, even when imperfect from some 
higher point of view, fit well a community at a given 
stage of its development. It may be a man's duty to 
obey its injunctions, even where they are not seen to 
be the wisest possible. One reason for bowing to custom 
is that it is custom; one reason for obeying laws is that 
they are laws. They embody the permanence and stabil- 
ity of the social will, and have a prima facie claim to 
our reverence. 

(2) In recognizing the social will as something deeper 
and broader than the will of the individual, as having 
its roots in the remote past and as reaching into the 
distant future, it admits the futility of devising Utopian 
schemes which would bless humanity in defiance of the 
actual expressions of the social will revealed in the de- 
velopment of human societies. The whim of the individ- 
ual cannot well be substituted for the settled purpose of 
the community — a purpose ripened by generations of 
experience, and adjusted to what is possible under exist- 
ing conditions. 

(3) On the other hand, it distinguishes between lower 



INDIVIDUAL AND THE SOCIAL WILL 183 

and higher ethical codes, or codes lower or higher in 
certain of their aspects. It sets a standard of compar- 
ison; it recognizes progress towards a goal. 

(4) And, in all this, it docs not appear to decide 
arbitrarily either what is the goal of man's moral efforts 
or what means must be adopted to attain to it. It rests 
upon a study of man; man as he has been, man as he 
is, in all the manifold relations in which he stands to his 
environment, physical and social. 

There are other ethical theories in the field, of course. 
Some of them are advocated by men of original genius 
and of no little learning. Some deserve more attention 
than others, but all should have a hearing, at least. A 
close scrutiny will often reveal that advocates of different 
theories are by no means so far apart as a hasty reading 
of their works would suggest. Writers the most diverse 
may assist one to a comprehension of one's own theory. 
Its implications may be developed, objections to it may 
be suggested, its strong points may stand revealed. By 
no means the least important part of a work on ethics 
is its treatment of the schools of the moralists. If it 
be written with any degree of fairness, it may contain 
what will serve the reader with an antidote to erroneous 
opinions on the part of the writer. To a study of 
the most important schools of the moralists I shall now 
turn. 



PART VII 
THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 



CHAPTER XXIII 
INTUITIONISM 

90. What is it? — " We come into the world," said 
Epictetus, " with no natural notion of a right-angled 
triangle, or of a quarter-tone, or of a half-tone; but we 
learn each of these things by a certain transmission 
according to art; and for this reason those who do not 
know them do not think that they know them. But 
as to good and evil, and beautiful and ugly, and becoming 
and unbecoming, and happiness and misfortune, and 
proper and improper, and what we ought to do and what 
we ought not to do, who ever came into the world 
without having an innate idea of them? " x Seneca adds 
his testimony to the self-luminous character of moral 
truth : " Whatever things tend to make us better or 
happier are either obvious or easily discovered." 2 

With the general spirit of these utterances the typical 
intuitionist is in sympathy, although he need not assent 
to the doctrine of innate ideas, nor need he hold that 
all moral truths are equally self-evident. There are 
intuitionists of various classes, and there are sufficiently 
notable differences of opinion. Still, all intuitionists be- 
lieve that some moral truth, at least, is revealed to the 
individual by direct inspection (intueor) , and that we 
must be content with such evidence and must not seek 

1 Discourses, Book II, chapter xi, translation by George Long. 

2 On Benefits, Book VII, chapter i. 

187 



188 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

for proof. It may be maintained that our moral judg- 
ments — or some of them — are the result of " an imme- 
diate discernment of the natures of things by the under- 
standing," and appeal may be made to the analogy 
furnished by mathematical truths. 3 

91. Varieties of Intuitionism. — Forms of intuitionism 
have been conveniently classified as Perceptional, Dog- 
matic and Philosophical. 4 To this nomenclature it may 
be objected that the term " dogmatic " carries with it 
a certain flavor of disapprobation, and predisposes one 
to the assumption of a critical attitude, while the term 
" philosophical " has the reverse suggestion, and smacks 
of special pleading. While admitting that there is some- 
thing in the objection, I retain the convenient terms, 
merely warning the reader to be on his guard. 

(1) Perceptional Intuitionism falls back upon the an- 
alogy of perception in general. I seem to perceive by 
direct inspection that my blotter is green, and that my 
penholder is longer than my pencil. I do not seek for 
evidence ; I do not have recourse to any chain of reason- 
ings to establish the fact. And I am concerned here with 
facts, not with some general proposition applicable to 
many facts. Even so, I may maintain that, in specific 
situations, the Tightness or wrongness of given courses 
of action may be perceived immediately. 

He who accepts the spontaneous deliverances of his 
conscience, when confronted with the necessity of making 
a decision, as revelations of moral truth, may be called 

3 This appeal has been made by famous intuitionists from 
the seventeenth century to the nineteenth — Cudworth, More, 
Locke, Clarke, Price, Whewell. 

4 Sidgwick, The Methods of Ethics, Book I, chapter viii, § 4. 



INTUITIONISM 189 

a perceptional intuitionist. The deliverances must, how- 
ever, be spontaneous and immediate, not the result of 
reasoning. If a man reasons, if he falls back upon gen- 
eral considerations, if he looks into the future and weighs 
the consequences of his act, and, as a result, decides 
what he ought to do, he is no longer a perceptional 
intuitionist. 

The perceptional intuitionist, consistently and unre- 
servedly such, is rather an ideal construction than an 
actually existing person. Most men, on certain occasions, 
are inclined to say, " I feel this to be right, and will do 
it, although I cannot support my decision by giving rea- 
sons." Many men are, at times, tempted to maintain 
that a given course of action is evidently right and should 
be followed irrespective of consequences. But this is 
not the habitual attitude even of men very little gifted 
with reflection, and it is highly unsatisfactory to those 
who have the habit of thinking. 

Primitive man supports his decisions by an appeal 
to custom. Civilized man turns to custom, to law, or to 
general principles of some sort, w r hich he accepts as 
authoritative, and which he regards as having a bearing 
upon the particular instance in question. That individual 
decisions should be capable of some sort of justification 
by the adduction of a reason or reasons is generally ad- 
mitted. No sane man would maintain the general 
proposition that the consequences of acts should be 
wholly disregarded in determining whether they are or 
are not desirable. 

(2) Thus, Perceptional Intuitionism gives place to 
what has been called Dogmatic Intuitionism — to the 
doctrine that certain general moral rules can be imme- 



190 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

diately perceived to be valid. The application of such 
general rules to particular instances implies discrimi- 
nation and the use of reason. 

Here decisions are not wholly unsupported. Reasons 
may be asked for and given. In answer to the question: 
Why should I say this or that? it may be said: Because 
the law of veracity demands it. In answer to the ques- 
tion: Why should I act thus? it may be said: Because 
it is just, or is in accordance with the dictates of benev- 
olence. The general rule is accepted as intuitively evi- 
dent, but it is incumbent upon the individual to use his 
judgment in determining what may properly fall under 
the general rule. 

But there are rules and rules. It is not easy to draw 
a sharp line between Perceptional Intuitionism and Dog- 
matic, just as it is not easy in other fields to distinguish 
sharply between knowledge given directly in perception, 
and knowledge in which more or less conscious processes 
of inference play a part. Do I perceive the man whom 
I see, when I look into a mirror, to be behind the mirror 
or in front of it? Do I perceive the whereabouts of the 
coach which I hear rattling by my window, or does 
reasoning play its part in giving me information? And 
if I follow my conscience in not withholding from the 
cabman the small customary fee in addition to his fare, 
am I prompted by an unreasoned perception of the Tight- 
ness of my act, or am I influenced by general consider- 
ations — the thought of what is customary, the belief 
that gratuities should not be withheld where services of 
a certain kind are rendered, etc.? 

Even so, it is difficult to draw a sharp line between 
Dogmatic Intuitionists and Philosophical, or to regard 



INTUITIONISM 191 

Dogmatic Intuitionists as a clearly defined class of any 
sort. A man may accept it as self-evident that a waiter 
should receive ten per cent of the amount of his bill; 
a woman may find it obviously proper that an old lady 
should wear purple. Those little given to reflection may 
accept such maxims as these without attempting to 
justify them by falling back upon any more general rule. 
We all find about us human beings who have their minds 
stored with a multitude of maxims not greatly different 
from those adduced, and who find them serviceable in 
guiding their actions. But thoughtful men can scarcely 
be content with such a modicum of reason, and they 
distinguish between ultimate principles and minor max- 
ims which stand in need of justification by their refer- 
ence to principles. 

The intuitional moralists by profession draw this dis- 
tinction. We find them setting forth as ultimate a 
limited number of ethical principles of a high degree of 
generality. It is obvious that, the more general the 
principle, the more room for conscious reasoning in 
its interpretation and application. The man to whom 
it appears as in the nature of things suitable that the 
waiter should receive his ten per cent is relieved from 
many perplexities which may beset the man w r ho feels 
assured only of the general truth that it is right to be 
benevolent. 

A glance at a few of the moralists who are treated 
in the history of ethics as representative intuitionists 
reveals that they are little in harmony as touching the 
particular moral intuitions which they urge as the foun- 
dation of ethics. 

Thus, John Locke maintains that from the idea of 



192 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

God, and of ourselves as rational beings, a science of 
morality may be deduced demonstratively; a science: 
" wherein I doubt not but from self-evident propositions, 
by necessary consequences, as incontestible as those in 
mathematics, the measures of right and wrong might be 
made out to anyone that will apply himself with the 
same indifferency and attention to the one, as he does 
to the other of those sciences." 5 

Among Locke's self-evident propositions or moral ax- 
ioms we find: where there is no property there is no 
injustice; no government allows absolute liberty; all 
men are originally free and equal; parents have the 
power to control their children till they come of age; 
the right of property is based upon work, but is limited 
by the supply of property left for others to enjoy. 6 

These axioms cannot be identified with Samuel Clarke's 
four chief rules of righteousness, which inculcate: piety 
toward God, equity in our dealings with men, benevo- 
lence, and sobriety. 7 Richard Price gives us still another 
choice, in dwelling upon our obligation as regards piety, 
prudence, beneficence, gratitude, veracity, the fulfillment 
of promises, and justice. 8 And Whewell, emulating the 
performance of Euclid, tried to build up a system of 
morals upon axioms embodying the seven principles of 
benevolence, justice, truth, purity, order, earnestness, 
and moral purpose. 9 

5 Essay Concerning Human Understanding, Book IV, 
chapter iii, § 18. 

6 See above, chapter iii, § 10. 

7 A Discourse concerning the Unalterable Relations of Natural 
Religion, Prop. I. 

8 A Review of the Principal Questions and Difficulties in 
Morals, chapter vii. 

9 The Elements of Morality, Book III, chapter iv. 



INTUITIONISM 193 

These moralists press the analogy of mathematical 
truth. It must be confessed, however, that a row of 
text-books on geometry, with so scattering and indefinite 
a collection of axioms, would do little to support one 
another; and little to convince us that they represented 
a coherent and consistent body of truth in which we 
might have unquestioning faith. 

(3) It is not unnatural that some thoughtful intu- 
itionists, dissatisfied with a considerable number of in- 
dependent moral principles, should aim at a further 
simplification. Such a simplification Kant finds in the 
Categorical Imperative, or unconditional command of the 
Practical Reason: "Act only on that maxim whereby 
thou canst at the same time will that it should become 
a universal law." 10 And Henry Sidgwick, refusing to 
regard all intuitions as of equal authority, selects two 
only as ultimately and independently valid — that which 
recommends a far-seeing prudence, and that which urges 
a rational benevolence. 11 Those who make their ultimate 
moral rules so broad and inclusive base upon them the 
multitude of minor maxims to which men are apt to have 
recourse in justifying their actions. Whether their doc- 
trine may be called philosophical in a sense implying 
commendation is matter for discussion. 

92. Arguments for Intuitionism. — What may be said 
in favor of intuitionism? 

(1) It may be urged that it is the doctrine which 
appeals most directly to common sense, and that it is 
found reasonably satisfactory in practice by men gen- 
erally. 

10 Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysic of Morals, § 2. 

11 The Methods of Ethics, Book III, chapter xiii, § 3. 



194 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

Intuition appears to be, in fact, man's guide in an 
overwhelming majority of the situations in which he 
is called upon to act. In the face of the concrete sit- 
uation he feels that he should say a kind word, help 
a neighbor, stand his ground courageously, speak the 
truth, and a thousand other things which a moralist 
might, upon reflection, approve. 

That he " feels " this does not mean merely that he 
is influenced by an emotion. We constantly employ the 
word to indicate the presence of a judgment which pre- 
sents itself spontaneously and for which men cannot or 
do not seek support by having recourse to reasons. 

He who, without reflection, affirms, " this action is 
right," has framed a moral judgment. He has in a 
given instance distinguished between right and wrong, 
although he has not raised the general problem of what 
constitutes right and wrong. He has exercised the pre- 
rogative of a moral being, though not of a very thoughtful 
one. 

We have seen above, that perceptional intuitionism 
tends to pass over into dogmatic intuitionism of some 
sort, even in the case of minds little developed. The 
egoistic rustic may defend his selfishness by citing the 
proverb, " my shirt is closer to me than my coat." If 
he does so, it means that a doubt has been suggested, 
a conflict of some sort called into being. Were such 
conflicts, causing hesitation and deliberation, of very 
frequent occurrence, life could scarcely go on at all. Con- 
versation would be impossible were no word placed and 
no inflection chosen without conscious reference to the 
rules of grammar. No man could conduct himself prop- 
erly in a drawing-room or at a table were his mind 



INTUITIONISM 195 

harking back at every moment to the instructions con- 
tained in some volume on etiquette. He who must justify 
every act by reflection is condemned to the jerkiest and 
most hesitant of moral lives. Perceptional moral intu- 
ition must stand our friend, if there is to be a flow of 
conduct worthy of the name. 

There are, however, occasions for checking the flow 
by reflection. Then men are forced to think, and we 
find them appealing to custom, citing proverbs, quoting 
maxims, taking their stand upon principles. Recourse 
may be had to generalizations of a very low or of a 
very high degree of generality. 

But low or high, it is upon intuitions that men actually 
fall back in justifying their actions. Benevolence, jus- 
tice, honesty, truthfulness, purity, honor, modesty, cour- 
tesy, and what not, are intuitively perceived to be right, 
and an effort is made to bring the individual act under 
some one of these headings. The mass of men, even in 
enlightened communities, do not feel impelled to justify 
these general moral maxims, to reduce them to a harmo- 
nious system, or to reconcile with each other the different 
lists of them which have been drawn up. They find 
it possible in practice to resolve most of their doubts 
by an appeal to this maxim or to that. From such 
doubts as refuse to be resolved they are apt to turn away 
their attention. But the moral life goes on, and to 
intuitions it owes its guidance. 

As to the few who reduce the moral intuitions to a 
minimum, and, like Kant and Sidgwick, end with one or 
two ultimate intuitional moral principles, we may say 
that they, like other men, are compelled, in the actual 
conduct of life, to turn to intuitions of lower orders. All 



196 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

sorts of moral intuitions are actually found helpful by- 
all sorts of men. 

(2) To the minds of men differing in their education 
and traditions, and at different stages of intellectual 
and moral development, very different moral judgments 
spontaneously present themselves. It is not a matter 
of accident that this man may " feel " an action to be 
right, and that man may " feel " it to be wrong. There 
is evident adaptation of the judgments to history and 
environment. They spring into being because the men 
are what they are and are situated as they are. 

It is this adaptation that renders the moral intuitions 
serviceable in carrying on the actual business of life. 
It is more complete, the less abstract the moral intui- 
tions which come into play. Plato, who in his " Laws " 
enters very minutely into the question of the permissible 
and the forbidden in the life of the citizens of his ideal 
state, finds it necessary to leave some things to the 
judgment of the individual. Thus, he finds it impossible 
to determine exhaustively what things are, and what 
things are not, worthy of a freeman. He leaves it to 
the virtuous to give judgments " in accordance with 
their feelings of right and wrong." 12 The intuitions of 
the mediaeval saint, of the upright modern European, of 
the virtuous Chinaman, would have impressed him as 
without rhyme or reason. He appealed to the Greek 
gentleman, whose sense of propriety was Greek, and 
might be expected to be adjusted to the situation. 

(3) The intuitive judgment of a sensitive moral nature 

may often be more nearly right than moral judgments 

based upon the most subtle of reasonings. 

12 Book XI; see the account of the occupations permissible 
to the landed proprietor. 



INTUITIONISM 197 

It is not hard to find, witli a little ingenuity, apparent 
justification for actions which the consciences of the 
enlightened condemn at first sight. Scarcely any action 
may not be brought under some moral rule, if one delib- 
erately sets out to do so. A narrow selfishness is de- 
fended as caring for one's own; a refusal of aid to the 
needy is justified by a reference to the evils of pauper- 
ization; patriotism becomes the excuse for hatred, wilful 
blindness and untruthful vilification. To the soph- 
istries of those who would thus make the worse appear 
the better, the intuitive judgment of the moral man 
opposes its unreasoned conviction. That the conviction 
is not supported by arguments does not prove that it is 
not a just one. 

93. Arguments Against Intuitionism. — What may be 
urged against Intuitionism? 

(1) It may be pointed out that such considerations as 
the above constitute an argument to prove the value of 
moral intuitions, and not one to prove the value of 
intuitionism as an ethical theory. That moral intuitions 
are indispensable may be freely admitted even by one 
who demurs to the doctrine that intuitionism in some 
one of its forms may be accepted as a satisfactory 
theory of morals. 

(2) Perceptional Intuitionism, at least, cannot be re- 
garded as embodying a rational theory or furnishing a 
science of any sort. Its one and only dogma must be 
that whatever actions reveal themselves to this man 
or that as right, are right, and there is no going behind 
the judgment of the individual. 

Shall we say to men: " In order to know what is right 
and what is wrong in human conduct, we need only to 



198 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

listen to the dictates of conscience when the mind is calm 
and unruffled "? 13 As well say: " The right time is the 
time indicated by your watch, when you are not shaking 
it." If men are to keep appointments with each other, 
they must have some other standard of time than that 
carried by each man in his vest-pocket. 

Perceptional Intuitionism ignores the fact that con- 
sciences may sometimes disagree, and that there may be 
a choice in consciences. The consistent perceptional in- 
tuitionist is, however, scarcely to be found, as has been 
said above; and we actually find those, some of whose 
utterances read as though the authors ought to be ad- 
herents of such a school, dwelling upon the desirability 
of the education of the conscience, i.e., upon the desir- 
ability of acquiring a capacity for having the right 
intuitions. In other words, they tell us to follow our 
noses — but to make sure that they point in the right 
direction. 14 In which case the determination of the 
right direction is not left to perceptional intuition. 

(3) The Dogmatic Intuitionist has difficulties of his 
own with which to cope. It is not enough to possess a 
collection of valid and authoritative rules. The rules 
must be applied; there is room for the exercise of judg- 
ment and for the possibility of error. Error is not ex- 
cluded even when the rule appears to be at only one or 
two removes from the individual instance ; where the rule 
is one of great generality the problem of its application 
becomes correspondingly difficult. The interpretation of 
the rule is not given intuitively with the rule. This 
means that the rule must, in practice, be supplemented. 

13 Thomas Reid, Essays on the Active Powers oj Man, v, § 4. 

14 See Thomas Reid, Essays on the Active Powers oj Man, 
iii, Part 3, § 8. 



INTUITIONISM 199 

Always and everywhere, a straight line appears to be 
the shortest distance between two points. What is meant 
by shortness hardly seems to be legitimate matter for 
dispute. But the man convinced that he ought to pay 
his workman a fair wage, and that he ought to do his 
duty by his son, may be in no little perplexity when 
he attempts to define that fair wage or that parental 
duty. If he turns for advice to others, he will find that 
history and tradition, time, place and circumstance, 
very perceptibly color the advice they offer. 

The application of the general rule is, hence, quite as 
important as the rule. There is no such thing as conduct 
in the abstract. Let us admit that benevolence is morally 
obligatory. How shall we be benevolent? Shall we 
follow Cicero, and give only that which costs us nothing? 
or shall we emulate St. Francis? The general rule may 
be a faultless skeleton, but it is, after all, only a skel- 
eton, and it cannot walk of itself. 

Again. The dogmatic intuitionist has quite a col- 
lection of rules by which he must judge of his actions. 
They are severally independent and authoritative. Sup- 
pose an act appears to be commanded by one rule and 
forbidden by another? Who shall decide between them? 
Prudence and benevolence may urge him in opposite 
directions. Benevolence and justice may not obviously 
be in harmony. The rule of veracity may seem, at times, 
to prescribe conduct which will entail much suffering 
on the part of the innocent. To what court of appeal 
can we refer the conflicts which may arise when ultimate 
authorities disagree? He who, in war time, can con- 
scientiously shoot a sentry, but cannot conscientiously 
lie to him, may, later, have his misgivings, when the 
Golden Rule knocks at the gate of his mind. 



200 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

(4) Nor does he leave all difficulties behind him, who 
abandons Dogmatic Intuitionism and takes refuge in 
Philosophical. 

Kant's maxim needs a vast amount of interpretation. 
As it stands, it is little more than an empty formula. 
What I can wish to be the law of the universe must 
depend very much upon what I am. The lion and the 
lamb do not thirst for the same law. To the quarrel- 
some heroes of Walhalla a world of perpetual fighting 
and feasting must seem a very good world, in spite of 
knocks received as well as given. Kant's fundamental 
maxim scarcely appears to be a moral rule at all, unless 
we make it read: " Act on a maxim which a wise and good 
man can will to be a universal law." But how decide 
who is the wise and good man? 

The philosophical intuitionist who accepts more than 
one ultimate moral rule must face the possibility that 
he will meet with a conflict of the higher intuitions to 
which he has had recourse. Shall his intuitions be those 
recommending a rational self-interest and a rational 
benevolence? Can he be sure that the two are neces- 
sarily in accord? Can there be a rational adjustment 
of the claims of each? Not if there be no court of appeal 
to which both intuitions are subject. 15 

Furthermore, between the philosophical and the dog- 
matic intuitionist serious differences of opinion may be 
expected to arise. He who makes, let us say, benevolence 
the supreme law naturally allows to other intuitions, 
such as justice and veracity, but a derivative authority. 

15 With his usual candor, Sidgwick admits this difficulty. He 
leaves it unresolved. See, The Methods of Ethics, in the con- 
cluding chapter. 



INTUITIONISM 201 

It appears, then, that there may be occasions on which 
they are not valid. To some famous intuitionists this 
has seemed to be a pernicious doctrine. 

" We are," writes Bishop Butler, " constituted so as to 
condemn falsehood, unprovoked violence, injustice, and 
to approve of benevolence to some preferably to others, 
abstracted from all consideration, which conduct is like- 
liest to produce an overbalance of happiness or misery." 10 

Butler thought that justice should be done though 
the heavens fall; the philosophical intuitionist must 
maintain that the danger of bringing down the heavens 
is never to be lost sight of. But this doctrine that there 
are intuitions and intuitions, some ultimately authori- 
tative and others not so, raises the whole question of 
the validity of intuitions. How are we to distinguish 
those that are always valid from others? By intuition? 
Intuition appears to be discredited. And if it is proper to 
demand proof that justice should be done and the truth 
spoken, why may one not demand proof that men should 
be prudent and benevolent? One may talk of " an imme- 
diate discernment of the nature of things by the under- 
standing " in the one case as in the other. If error is 
possible there, why not here? 

94. The Value of Moral Intuitions. — It would not 
be fair to close this chapter on intuitionism, an ethical 
theory competing with others for our approval, without 
emphasizing the value of the role played by the moral 
intuitions. 

They are the very guide of life, and without them our 
reasonings would be of little service. They should be 

16 Dissertations appended to the " Analogy," II, Of the Nature 
of Virtue. Cf. Dugald Stewart, Outlines of Moral Philosophy, 
Part 2, §348. 



202 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

treated gently, gratefully, with reverence. To them 
human societies owe their stability, their capacity for 
an orderly development, the smooth working of the 
machinery of daily life. Their presence does not exclude 
the employment of reasoning, but they furnish a basis 
upon which the reason can occupy itself with profit. 
They are a safeguard against those Utopian schemes 
which would shatter our world and try experiments in 
creation out of nothing. 

Nevertheless, he who busies himself with ethics as 
science must study them critically and strive to esti- 
mate justly their true significance. He may come to 
regard them, not as something fixed and changeless, but 
as living and developing, coming into being, and modi- 
fying themselves, in the service of life. Does he dis- 
honor them who so views them? 



CHAPTER XXIV 
EGOISM 

95. What is Egoism? — Egoism has been denned as 
" any ethical system in which the happiness or good 
of the individual is made the main criterion of moral 
action," 1 or as " the doing or seeking of that which 
affords pleasure or advantage to oneself, in distinction to 
that which affords pleasure or advantage to others." 2 

It may strike the average reader as odd to be told that 
such definitions bristle with ambiguities, and that it is 
by no means easy to draw a sharp line between doctrines 
which everyone would admit to be egoistic, and others 
which seem more doubtfully to fall under that head. 
" Happiness," " good," " advantage," " self," all are terms 
which call for scrutiny, and which set pitfalls for the 
unwary. 

96. Crass Egoisms. — We may best approach the sub- 
ject of what may properly be regarded as constituting 
egoism, by turning first to one or two " terrible examples." 

No one would hesitate to call egoistic the doctrine of 
Aristippus, the Cyrenaic, the errant disciple of Socrates. 
He made pleasure the end of life, and taught that it 
might be sought without a greater regard to customary 
morality than was made prudent by the penalties to 
be feared as a consequence of its violation. Where the 

1 Encyclopedia Britannica, 11th edition. 

2 Century Dictionary. 

203 



204 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

centre of gravity of the system of the Cyrenaics falls 
is evident from their holding that " corporeal pleasures 
are superior to mental ones," and that " a friend is 
desirable for the use which we can make of him." 3 

The doctrine of the English philosopher, Thomas 
Hobbes, is as unequivocally egoistic. 

" Of the voluntary acts of every man," he writes, 4 
the object is some good to himself;" and again, 5 "no 
man giveth, but with intention of good to himself; because 
gift is voluntary; and of all voluntary acts the object 
is to every man his own good." 

He leaves us in no doubt as to the sort of good which he 
conceives men to seek when they practice what has the 
appearance of generosity. Contract he calls a mutual 
transference of rights, and he distinguishes gift from 
contract as follows: 

" When the transferring of right is not mutual, but one 
of the parties transferreth, in hope to gain thereby 
friendship, or service from another, or from his friends, 
or in hope to gain the reputation of charity or mag- 
nanimity, or to deliver his mind from the pain of com- 
passion, or in hope of reward in heaven, this is not con- 
tract but gift, free gift, grace, which words signify the 
same thing." 6 

There is a passage from the pen of the British divine, 

3 Diogenes Laertius, Lives of the Philosophers, " Aristippus," 
viii. 

4 Leviathan, Part I, xiv. 

5 Ibid. xv. 

6 Ibid. I, xiv. The italics are mine. It was thus that Hobbes 
accounted for his giving a sixpence to a beggar : " I was in pain 
to consider the miserable condition of the old man; and now 
my alms, giving him some relief, doth also ease me." Hobbes, 
by G. C. Robertson, Edinburgh, 1886, p. 206. 



EGOISM 205 

Paley, which appears to merit a place alongside of the 
citations from Hobbes, widely as the men differ in many 
of their views. It reads: 

" We can be obliged to nothing but what we ourselves 
are to gain or lose something by; for nothing else can 
be a ' violent motion ' to us. As we should not be obliged 
to obey the laws, or the magistrate, unless rewards 
or punishments, pleasure or pain, somehow or other, 
depended upon our obedience; so neither should we, 
without the same reason, be obliged to do what is right, 
to practice virtue, or to obey the commandments of 
God." 7 

97. Equivocal Egoism? i — The above is unquestion- 
ably egoism. The man who accepts such a doctrine and 
consistently walks in the light must be set down as self- 
seeking. But self-seeking, as understood by different 
men, appears to take on different aspects. Shall we 
class all those who frankly accept it as man's only ulti- 
mate motive with Aristippus and Epicurus and Hobbes? 

Thomas Hill Green writes: "Anything conceived as 
good in such a way that the agent acts for the sake of it, 
must be conceived as his own good." 8 The motive to 
action is, he maintains, always " some idea of the man's 
personal good." 9 He does not hesitate to say that a 
man necessarily lives for himself; 10 and he calls "the 
human self or the man " " a self-seeking ego, a self- 
seeking subject, and a self-seeking person. 12 

Were Green's book a lost work, only preserved to the 

7 Moral Philosophy, Book II, chapter ii. 

8 Prolegomena to Ethics, § 92. 

9 § § 95, 97. 

10 § 138. « § 99. 12 § § 98, 100, 145. 



206 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

memories of men by such citations as the above, the 
author would certainly be relegated to a class of moral- 
ists with which he had, in fact, little sympathy. 

But the book is not lost, and by turning to it we find 
Green continuing the first of the above citations with 
the words: " Though he may conceive it as his own good 
only on account of his interest in others, and in spite of 
any amount of suffering on his own part incidental to 
its attainment." He is willing to grant the self-seeking 
ego an eye single to its own interests, but he is careful 
to explain that: " These are not merely interests depend- 
ent on other persons for the means to their gratification, 
but interests in the good of those other persons, interests 
which cannot be satisfied without the consciousness that 
those other persons are satisfied." 13 

When Hobbes gave an account of " the passions that 
incline men to peace," 14 he made no mention of the 
social nature of man. That nature Green conceives to be 
so essentially social that the individual cannot disen- 
tangle his own good from the good of his fellows. To 
live " for himself," since that self is a social self, means 
to live for others. May this fairly be called egoistic 
doctrine? 

98. What is Meant by the Self? — It is sufficiently 
clear that the happiness, or good, or advantage, or inter- 
ests of the individual or self may mean many things. It 
is equally clear that in our interpretation of all such 
terms our notions of the nature of the self will play 
no inconsiderable role. What is the self? 

In his famous chapter on the Consciousness of Self, 15 

13 § 199. 

14 Leviathan, I, xiii. 

15 Psychology, New York, 1890, I, chapter x. 



EGOISM 207 

William James enumerates four senses of the word. 
With three of these we may profitably occupy ourselves 
here. He calls them the Material Self, the Social Self 
and the Spiritual Self. 

The innermost part of the material self he makes 
our body, and next to it, in their order, he places our 
clothes, our family, our home, and our property. They 
contribute to our being what we are in our own eyes, 
we identify ourselves with them, and we experience " a 
sense of the shrinkage of our personality " when even 
the more outlying elements, such as our possessions, are 
lost. " Our immediate family," he writes, " is a part of 
ourselves. Our father and mother, our wife and babes, 
are bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh. When they 
die, a part of our very selves is gone. If they do any- 
thing wrong, it is our shame. If they are insulted, our 
anger flashes forth as readily as if we stood in their 
place." 

It is obvious that the limits of the material self, as 
above understood, may be indefinitely extended. There 
are men who feel about their country as the average 
normal man feels about his home; and doubtless the 
suffering of a stray beggar tugged at the heart of St. 
Francis as the misfortune of wife or child does in the 
case of other men. How far abroad our " interests " are 
to be found, and just what " interests " we shall regard 
as intimately and peculiarly our own, depends upon what 
we are. 

The Social Self James describes as the recognition a 
man gets from his mates: " We are not only gregarious 
animals, liking to be in the sight of our fellows, but we 
have an innate propensity to get ourselves noticed, and 



208 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

noticed favorably, by our kind." Men certainly regard 
their fame or honor as to be included among their inter- 
ests, and they may value and seek to obtain the good 
opinion of a very little clique or of a much wider circle. 

By the Spiritual Self is meant our qualities of mind 
and character — " the most enduring and intimate part 
of the Self, that which we most verily seem to be." Our 
interest in these it is impossible to overlook, and their 
cultivation and development may become a ruling 
passion. 

James's illuminating pages make clear that he who 
speaks of the advantage or interest of the individual 
may have in mind predominantly any one of these aspects 
of the Self, or all of them conjointly. The Self as he 
conceives it may be a narrow one, or it may be a very 
broad one. 

99. Egoism and the Broader Self. — It may with 
some plausibility be maintained that he who lives for 
himself may not properly be regarded as an egoist and 
called selfish, if his Self is sufficiently expanded. May 
it not, theoretically, include as much of the universe as 
is known to man? And where can a man seek ends of 
any sort beyond this broad field? On this view, all men 
are, in a sense, self-seeking, but only those are repre- 
hensibly self-seeking who have narrow and scanty selves. 

But common sense and the common usage of speech 
do not sanction such statements as that a man neces- 
sarily lives for himself and that all men are self-seeking. 
It is justly recognized that some men with broad inter- 
ests — of a sort — are self-seeking, and that some others 
with great limitations are not. 

He who has property scattered over four continents 



EGOISM 209 

and watches with absorbing interest all movements upon 
the political and economic stage may nevertheless be a 
thorough-going egoist. The breadth of his horizon will 
not redeem him. One may look far afield and live 
laborious days in the pursuit of fame, and be egoistic to 
the back-bone, although one's interests, in this case, 
include even the contents of the minds of generations 
yet unborn. One may forego many pleasures and con- 
centrate all one's efforts upon the attainment of intellec- 
tual eminence or of a virtuous character, and yet seem 
to have a claim to the name of egoist. 

That even the pursuit of virtue may take an egoistic 
turn has frequently been recognized: "Woe betides 
that man," writes Dewey, " who having entered upon a 
course of reflection which leads to a clearer conception 
of his own moral capacities and weaknesses, maintains 
that thought as a distinct mental end, and thereby makes 
his subsequent acts simply means to improving or per- 
fecting his moral nature." 16 He characterizes this as 
one of the worst kinds of selfishness. The task set him- 
self by the egoist who aims at outshining his fellows 
in an unselfish self-forgetfulness would seem to be a 
particularly difficult one; yet we have all met persons 
who appear to be animated by some such desire. 

100. Egoism not Unavoidable. — On such cases as the 
above the common judgment can hardly be in doubt. 
But there are cases more questionable. Was Hobbes 
really self-seeking when he gave the sixpence to the 
old beggar? Is it egoism that leads the young mother 
to give herself the exquisite pleasure of feeding and 
caring for her babes? cr that induces the patriot to 

16 Ethics, chapter xviii, § 3, p. 384. 



210 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

die for his country? To be sure, both the babes and the 
fatherland may fall within the limits of the self, as 
the psychologist has broadly defined it. 

But they fall within it only in a sense. No doctrine 
of the mutual inclusion of selves can obliterate the dis- 
tinction between self and neighbor, and make my 
neighbor merely a part of myself. The common opinion 
of mankind is not at fault in basing upon the distinction 
between selves the further distinction between egoism 
and altruism. Whatever interests the egoist may have, 
his ultimate motive to action cannot be the recognition 
of the desire or will of another. Such can be the motive 
of the altruist. 

Human motives are of many sorts, and just what they 
are it is not always easy to discover. Cornelia, in ex- 
hibiting her " jewels," may have been puffed up with 
pride. When Cyrano de Bergerac threw, with a noble 
gesture, his purse to the players, his " Mais quel geste! " 
reveals that he was a player himself and was " showing 
off." There may be spectacular patriots, who are willing 
to suffer the extreme penalty for the sake of a place in 
history. But all maternal affection is not identical with 
pride; all generous impulses cannot be traced to vanity; 
all patriotism is not spectacular; nor is the motive to 
the relief of suffering necessarily the removal of one's 
own pain. It is one thing to hire Lazarus not to exhibit 
himself in his shocking plight on our front porch, and 
it is a distinctly different thing to be concerned about 
the needs of Lazarus per se. 

It is obvious, then, that it is only by a straining of 
language that one can say that man necessarily lives 
for himself, or is unavoidably self-seeking. He who 



EGOISM 211 

makes such statements overlooks the fact that, even if 
is true that, in a sense, a man's self may be regarded 
as coextensive with all that interests him, it is equally 
true that different selves are mutually exclusive and that 
the good of one may serve as the ultimate motive in 
determining the action of another. The ethnologist is 
compelled to recognize altruistic impulses in men prim- 
itive and in men civilized: "Of the doctrine of self- 
interest as the primary and only genuine human motive, 
it is sufficient to say that it bears no relation to the 
facts of human nature, and implies an incorrect view of 
the origin of instinct." 17 

101. Varieties of Egoism. — The egoist may set his 
affections upon pleasure, and become a representative 
of Egoistic Hedonism, the variety of egoism normally 
treated as typical and made the subject of criticism in 
ethical treatises. But there is nothing to prevent him 
from making his aim, not so much pleasure, as self- 
preservation; or from taking as his goal wealth, 
power, reputation, intellectual or moral attainment, or 
what not. 18 

So long as the motives which impel him to get, to 
avoid, to be, or to do, something, do not include, except as 
means to some ulterior end, the desire or will of his fel- 
low-man, there appears no reason to deny him the title 
of " Egoist." Nor need we deny him the title because 
he may be unconscious of his egoism. There are uncon- 
scious egoists who are wholly absorbed in the individual 

17 Hobhouse, Morals in Evolution, p. 16 

18 Thus, Hobbes made his end self-preservation; Spinoza takes 
much the same position; Nietzsche makes that which is aimed 
at, power. 



212 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

objects which are the end of their strivings. They may 
be quite unaware that they are ruled by self-interest, 
when it is clear to the spectator that such is the case. 19 
But the philosophical egoist must rise to a higher plane 
of reflection. 

There are, thus, egoisms of many sorts, and they may 
urge men to very different courses of conduct. Some of 
them may pass over more naturally than others into 
forms of doctrine which are not egoistic at all. He who 
aims at a maximum of pleasure for himself is likely to 
remain an egoist; he whose ambition is to be a patron 
of science or a philanthropist, may, it is true, remain 
within the circle of the self, but it is quite possible that 
his ulterior aim may come to be forgotten and his real 
interest be transferred to the enlightenment of mankind 
or to the relief of suffering. 

It is especially worthy of remark that in judging a 
system of doctrine we must take it as a whole, and 
not confine ourselves to a few utterances of the man 
who urges it, however unequivocal they may appear when 
taken in isolation. He whose motive to action is always 
some idea of his own personal good is an egoist. But a 
philosopher may hold that human motives are always 
of this sort, and yet reveal unmistakably, both in his 
life and in his writings, that he is not really an egoist 
at all. In which case, we may tax him with more or less 
inconsistency, but we should not misconceive him. 

102. The Arguments for Egoism. — So much for the 

forms of egoism. It remains to enquire what may be 

urged in favor of the doctrine, and what may be said 

against it. 

19 James, Psychology, Vol. I, chapter x, pp. 319-321 ; a baby is 
characterized as " the completest egoist." 



EGOISM 213 

(1) It has been urged that egoism is inevitable. This, 
to be sure, can scarcely be regarded as an argument that 
a man ought to be an egoist, for there seems little sense 
in telling a man that he ought to do what he cannot 
possibly help doing. But the argument may be used to 
deter us from advocating some other ethical doctrine. 

" On the occasion of every act that he exercises," says 
Bentham, " every human being is led to pursue that 
line of conduct which, according to his view of the case, 
taken by him at the moment, will be in the highest 
degree contributory to his own greatest happiness." 20 

From this we might conclude, not only that every man 
is an egoist, but also that every man is at all times a 
prudent and calculating egoist — which seems to flatter 
grossly the drunkard and the excited man laying about 
him in blind fury. But one may hold that egoism is 
inevitable without going so far. 21 

(2) The egoistic ideal may be urged upon us on the 
ground that it addresses itself to man as natural and 
reasonable. 

Thus, the Cyrenaics saw in the fact that we are from 
our childhood attracted to pleasure, and, when we have 
attained it, seek no further, a proof that pleasure is the 
chief good. 22 Paley maintains that, when it has been 
pointed out that private happiness has been the motive 
of an act, " no further question can reasonably be 
asked." 23 Our citations from Hobbes and Bentham and 

20 The Constitutional Code. Introduction, § 2. 

21 Psychological Hedonism, the doctrine that " volition is 
always determined by pleasures or pains actual or prospective," 
need not be thus exaggerated. See Sidgwick's Methods of Ethics, 
I, iv, § 1. 

22 Diogenes Laertius, II, " Aristippus," § 8. 

23 Moral Philosophy, II, § 3. 



214 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

Green reveal that these writers never think of giving 
reasons why a man should seek his own good. 

And various moralists, who do not make self-interest 
the one fundamental principle which should rule human 
conduct, are evidently loath to make of it a principle 
subordinate to some other. Bishop Butler, who maintains 
that virtue consists in the pursuit of right and good as 
such, yet holds that: " When we sit down in a cool hour, 
we can neither justify to ourselves this nor any other pur- 
suit till we are convinced that it will be for our happiness, 
or at least not contrary to it." 24 Clarke, who dwells 
upon the eternal and immutable obligations of morality 
" incumbent on men from the very nature and reason of 
things themselves " teaches that it is not reasonable for 
men to adhere to virtue if they receive no advantage 
from it. 25 

The moral here seems to be that, whatever else a man 
ought to do, he ought to seek his own advantage — real 
self-sacrifice cannot be his duty. This conviction of 
the unreasonableness of self-sacrifice reveals itself in 
another form in the doctrine that morality cannot be 
made completely rational unless a reconciliation between 
prudence and benevolence can be found; 26 and in the 
labored attempts to show that the good of the individual 
must actually coincide with that of the community. 27 It 
may be questioned whether the same conviction did not 

24 Sermon XI. 

25 Boyle Lectures, 1705, Prop. I. 

26 Sidgwick, The Methods of Ethics, concluding chapter, § 5. 

27 E. g. Green, Prolegomena to Ethics, § § 244-245. Aristotle 
tries to prove that he who dies for his country is impelled by 
self-love. He does what is honorable, and thus " gives the greater 
good to himself." Ethics, Book IX, chapter viii. 



EGOISM 215 

lurk in the back of the mind of that sternest of moralists, 
Kant, who denied that happiness ought to be sought at 
all, and yet found so irrational the divorce of virtue and 
happiness that he postulated a God to guarantee their 
union. 28 

Thus, moralists of widely different schools agree in 
recognizing that self-interest is a principle that should 
not be placed second to any other. The confessed egoist 
only goes a step further in recognizing it as a principle 
that has no rival. And that men generally are inclined 
to regard egoism as not unnatural seems evinced by the 
fact that for apparently altruistic actions they are very 
apt to seek ulterior egoistic motives, while, if the action 
seems plainly egoistic, they seek no further. 

Does, then, anything seem more natural than egoism? 
and, if natural, may it not be assumed to be proper 
and right? 

(3) Finally, it may be urged that he who serves his 
own interests at all intelligently has, at least, a com- 
prehensive aim, and does not live at random. In so far, 
egoism appears to be rational in a sense dwelt on above; 29 
it harmonizes and unifies the impulses and desires of 
the man. 

103. The Argument against Egoism. — What may be 
said against egoism? 

(1) Enough has been said above to show that egoism 
is not inevitable, but that men actually are influenced 
by motives which cannot be regarded as egoistic. It 
is, hence, not necessary to dwell upon this point. 

(2) As to the naturalness of egoism. Both the pro- 

28 The Critique of the Practical Reason, chapter ii. 

29 § § 55-56 



216 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

fessional moralist and the man in the street may hesitate 
to admit that a man should neglect his own interests, 
and may find it natural that he should cultivate them 
assiduously. But it is only the exceptional man who 
maintains that he should have nothing else in view. 

There are individuals so constituted that self-interest 
makes to them a peculiarly strong appeal. Others, more 
social by nature, may be misled by psychological theory 
to maintain that a man's chief and only end is his own 
" satisfaction." 30 Still others, realizing that both one's 
own interests and the interests of one's neighbor are nat- 
ural and seemingly legitimate objects of regard, are 
perplexed as to the method of reconciling their apparently 
conflicting claims, and are betrayed into inconsistent 
utterances. 

But it is too much to say that the professional mor- 
alist and the plain man normally regard pure egoism 
with favor and find it natural. In spite of our cynical 
maxims and our inclination to seek for ulterior motives 
for apparently altruistic acts, we abhor the thorough- 
going egoist, and we are not inclined to look upon the 
phenomena, let us say, of the family life, as manifesta- 
tions of self-seeking. 

It is worth while to remark that, even if the approach 
to the Cyrenaic ideal were so common as not to seem 
wholly unnatural, that would not prove that it ought to 
be embraced; it is natural for men to err, but that does 
not make error our duty. 

(3) By the moral conviction of organized humanity, 
as expressed in custom, law, and public opinion, egoism 
stands condemned. Neither in savage life nor among 
30 See below, chapter xxvi, 3. 



EGOISM 217 

civilized peoples, neither in the dawn of human history 
nor in its latest chapters, do we find these agencies 
encouraging every man to live exclusively for himself. 
Egoistic impulses are recognized, in that reward and 
punishment are allotted, but the end urged upon the 
attention of the individual is the common good, not his 
own particular good. 

The social conscience has always demanded of the 
individual self-sacrifice, even to the extent of laying 
down his life, on occasion, for the public weal. And 
the enlightened social conscience does not regard a man 
as truly moral whose outward conformity to moral laws 
rests solely upon a basis of egoistic calculation. The 
very existence of the family, the tribe, the state, is a 
protest against pure egoism. Were all men as egoistic 
as Aristippus seems to have professed to be, a stable 
community life of any sort would be impossible. 

(4) The argument that egoism is rational at least in 
so far as it introduces consistency into actions and uni- 
fies and harmonizes desires and impulses deserves little 
consideration. Any comprehensive end will do the same, 
and many comprehensive ends may be very trivial. One 
may make it the aim of one's life to remain slender, 
or may devote all one's energies to the amelioration of 
the social position of bald-headed men. He who coun- 
sels deliberate egoism does not recommend it merely on 
the score that it leads to consistent action. He does 
it on the ground that the end itself appeals to him as 
one that ought to be selected and will be selected if a 
man is wise. That the interest of the individual is in 
this sense a matter of obligation, is something to be 
proved, not assumed. 



218 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

104. The Moralist's Interest in Egoism. — It has been 

worth while to treat at length of egoism because the 
doctrine takes on more or less subtle forms, and its 
fundamental principle, self-interest, has a significance 
for various ethical schools which are not, or are not 
considered, egoistic. Men have been vastly puzzled 
by the moral claims of the principle of self-interest, both 
plain men and professional moralists. 

That prudence is not the only fundamental virtue, 
most men would be ready enough to admit; but is it 
properly speaking, a virtue at all? Ought I, for example, 
to try to make myself happy? Suppose I do not want 
to be happy, w T hat is the source of the obligation? 

Butler tells me that interest, one's own happiness, is 
a manifest obligation; 31 Bentham, a writer of a widely 
different school, informs me that " the constantly proper 
end of action on the part of any individual at the mo- 
ment of action is his real greatest happiness from that 
moment to the end of his life." 31> On the other hand, 
Hutcheson teaches me that I am under no obligation to 
be good to myself, although I am under obligation to 
be good to others : " Actions which flow solely from self- 
love, and yet evidence no want of benevolence, having 
no hurtful effects upon others, seem perfectly indifferent 
in a moral sense." 33 Which means that intemperance is 
blameworthy only so far as it is against the public 
interest. 

31 Dissertation on the Nature of Virtue, §8; Sermons III 
and XI. 

32 Bentham, Memoirs, Vol. X of Bowring's Edition, Edin- 
burgh, 1843, p. 560. 

33 An Enquiry concerning Moral Good and Evil, §3, 5. 



EGOISM 219 

May I, should I, on occasion, sacrifice myself? 
Thoughtful men generally recognize self-sacrifice, not 
only as possible, but as actual, and believe it to be at 
times a duty. But the moralist gives forth here an 
uncertain sound. 

Self-interest and benevolence have been left to fight 
out their quarrel in a court without a judge to decide 
upon their conflicting claims; 34 self-sacrifice has been 
enjoined; 35 it has been declared impossible; 30 it has been 
denied that it can ever be a duty; 37 the kind of self- 
sacrifice in question has been regarded as significant. 38 

He who has rejected as unworthy of serious considera- 
tion the naive egoism of an Aristippus or an Epicurus 
is not on that account done with egoism, by any means. 39 

34 See § 102, the citations from Butler and Clarke. 

35 Kant, see, later, chapter xxix. 

36 See, above, the position of Green, § 97; cf., below, § 126. 

37 Fite, An Introductory Study of Ethics, chapter vii, § 5. 

38 Sidgwick, The Methods oj Ethics, Introduction, §4. 

39 The question of self-sacrifice recurs again in chapter xxvi, 3. 



CHAPTER XXV 
UTILITARIANISM 

105. What is Utilitarianism? — The division of things 
desirable into those desirable in themselves, and those 
desirable for the sake of something else, is two thou- 
sand years old. Those things which we recognize as 
desirable for the sake of something else, we call useful. 

What we shall regard as useful depends in each 
case upon the nature of the end at which we aim. If 
our aim is the attainment of pleasure, the preservation 
of life, the harmonious development of our faculties, or 
any other, we may term useful whatever makes for 
the realization of that end. 

Hence, we can, by stretching the application of the 
word, call utilitarian any ethical doctrine which sets an 
ultimate end to human endeavor and judges actions as 
moral or the reverse, according to their tendency to 
realize that end, or to frustrate its realization. As the 
ends thus chosen may be very diverse, it is obvious that 
widely different forms of utilitarian doctrine may come 
into being. 

It is, however, inconvenient to stretch the term/' util- 
itarianism " in this fashion. Certain forms of doctrine 
which, in its wider sense, it would include, have come 
to be known under names of their own ; and, besides, the 
especial type of utilitarianism advocated by Bentham 

220 



UTILITARIANISM 221 

and John Stuart Mill appears to have a claim upon the 
appellation which they set in circulation. Common usage 
has thus limited the significance of the word, and we 
naturally think of the doctrine of these men when we 
hear it uttered. It is in this sense that I shall use it. 

" The creed which accepts as the foundation of morals, 
Utility, or the Greatest Happiness Principle," writes 
Mill, " holds that actions are right in proportion as they 
tend to promote happiness, wrong as they tend to pro- 
duce the reverse of happiness. By happiness is intended 
pleasure, and the absence of pain; by unhappiness, pain 
and the privation of pleasure." This means, he adds, 
" that pleasure, and freedom from pain, are the only 
things desirable as ends; and that all desirable things 
. . . are desirable either for the pleasure inherent in 
themselves, or as means to the promotion of pleasure 
and the prevention of pain." 1 

The pleasure here intended is not the selfish pleasure 
of the individual. Utilitarianism is not Cyrenaicism. 
The goal of the utilitarian's endeavors is the general 
happiness, in which many individuals participate. The 
moral rules which control and direct the strivings of 
the individual derive their authority from their tendency 
to serve this end. 

106. Bentham's Doctrine. — Most uncompromising is 
the utilitarianism set forth in the writings of Mill's mas- 
ter, that most benevolent and philanthropic of men, 
Jeremy Bentham. He is true to his principles and he 
makes no concessions. 

1 Utilitarianism, chapter ii. In the pages following, when I 
leave out a reference to pain in discussing the utilitarian doctrine, 
it will be for convenience and for the sake of brevity. The 
intelligent reader can supply the omissions. 



222 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

He regards that as in the interest of the individual 
which tends to add to the sum total of his pleasures 
or to diminish the sum total of his pains. And he under- 
stands in the same sense the interest of the community. 2 
That which serves that interest he sets down as " con- 
formable to the principle of utility." What is thus con- 
formable he declares ought to be done, what is not 
conformable ought not to be done. Right and wrong 
he distinguishes in the same manner. " When thus inter- 
preted," he insists, " the words ought, and right and 
wrong, and others of that stamp, have a meaning; when 
otherwise, they have none." 3 

Of differences in quality between pleasures Bentham 
takes no account. In his curious and interesting chap- 
ter entitled " Value of a Lot of Pleasure or Pain, how 
to be Measured," he enumerates the circumstances which 
should determine the value of a pleasure or a pain. They 
are as follows: 4 

1. Its intensity. 

2. Its duration. 

3. Its certainty or uncertainty. 

4. Its propinquity or remoteness. 

5. Its fecundity. 

6. Its purity. 

7. Its extent. 

The first four of these characteristics call for no 
comment. By the fecundity of a pleasure Bentham 
understands its likelihood of being followed by other 

2 Principles of Morals and Legislation, chapter i, § 5. 

3 Ibid., i, 10. 

4 Ibid., chapter iv. 



UTILITARIANISM 223 

pleasures; by its purity, the likelihood that it will not 
be followed by pains. The characteristic " extent " marks 
off utilitarianism from egoism, for it has reference to 
the number of persons affected by the pleasure or the 
pain. The greater the number, the higher the value in 
question. The greatest number of pleasures of the high- 
est value, as free as possible from admixture with pains, 
is the goal of the endeavors of the utilitarian. Naturally, 
when the interests of many persons are taken into ac- 
count, the question of the principle according to which 
" lots " of pleasure are to be distributed becomes a press- 
ing one. Bentham decides it as follows: " Everybody 
to count for one, and nobody for more than one." 5 In 
other words, the distribution should be an impartial one. 
At first sight, this account of the relative desirability 
of pleasures and undesirability of pains seems sensible 
enough. Men do desire pleasure, and they undoubtedly 
approve the preference given to pleasures more intense, 
enduring, certain, immediate, fruitful in further pleas- 
ures, free from painful consequences, and shared by 
many, over those which have not these characteristics: 

" Intense, long, certain, speedy, fruitful, pure — 
Such marks in pleasures and in pains endure. 

Such pleasures seek, if private be thy end: 
If it be public, wide let them extend. 

Such pains avoid, whichever be thy view; 

If pains must come, let them extend to few." 6 

These mnemonic lines may well strike many readers 
as embodying a very good working rule of common- 
sense morality; as paying a proper regard to prudence 

5 See the discussion of Bentham's dictum in its bearings on 
justice, J. S. Mill, Utilitarianism, chapter v. 

6 Principles of Morals and Legislation, chapter iv, 1, Note. 



224 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

and to benevolence as well. But there are passages 
in Bentham calculated to shake such acquiescence. He 
writes : 

" Now pleasure is in itself a good ; nay, even setting 
aside immunity from pain, the only good: pain is in itself 
an evil, and, indeed without exception, the only evil; 
or else the words good and evil have no meaning. And 
this is alike true of every sort of pain, and of every sort 
of pleasure." 7 

"Let a man's motive be ill-will; call it even malice, 
envy, cruelty; it is still a kind of pleasure that is his 
motive: the pleasure he takes at the thought of the 
pain which he sees, or expects to see, his adversary un- 
dergo. Now even this wretched pleasure, taken by itself, 
is good: it may be faint; it may be short; it must at 
any rate be impure: yet, while it lasts, and before any 
bad consequences arrive, it is as good as any other that 
is not more intense." 8 

Reflection upon such passages may well lead a man 
to ask himself: 

(1) Is it, after all, the consensus of human opinion 
that pleasure is the only good and pain the only evil? 

(2) Are some pleasures actually regarded as more 
desirable than others, solely through the application 
of the standard given above? 

(3) Can the pleasure of a malignant act properly be 
called morally good at all? 

107. The Doctrine of John Stuart Mill. — Bentham's 
purely quantitative estimate of the value of pleasures has 
aroused in many minds the feeling that he puts moral- 

7 Ibid., chapter x, 10. 

8 Ibid, note. 



UTILITARIANISM 225 

ity upon a low level. 9 Mill attempts an improvement 
upon his doctrine. " It is quite compatible with the 
principle of utility," he writes, " to recognize the fact 
that some kinds of pleasure are more desirable and 
more valuable than others. It would be absurd that, 
while in estimating all other things quality is consid- 
ered as well as quantity, the estimation of pleasures 
should be supposed to depend on quantity alone." 10 

Thus, Mill distinguishes between higher pleasures and 
lower, and he gives a criterion for distinguishing the 
former from the latter: " Of two pleasures, if there be 
one to which all or almost all who have experience of 
both give a decided preference, irrespective of any feel- 
ing of moral obligation to prefer it, that is the more desir- 
able pleasure." He refers the whole matter to the judg- 
ment of the " competent;" and, in accordance with that 
judgment, decides that: " It is better to be a human 
being dissatisfied than a pig satisfied; better to be 
Socrates dissatisfied than a fool satisfied. And if the 
fool, or the pig, are of a different opinion, it is because 
they only know their own side of the question. The 
other party to the comparison knows both sides." 11 

That some pleasures may properly be called higher 
than others moralists of many schools will be ready to 
admit, but to Mill's criterion of what proves them to 
be higher they may demur. Of the delight that a fool 

9 In justice to Bentham it must be borne in mind that his 
prime interest was not in ethical theory, but in legislative reform. 
His doctrine, such as it was, and applied as he applied it, was 
a tool of no mean efficacy. Bentham must count among the real 
benefactors of mankind. 

10 Utilitarianism, chapter i. 

11 Ibid. 



226 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

takes in his folly a wise man may be as incapable as a 
fool is of the enjoyment of wisdom. With mature years 
men cease to be competent judges of the pleasures of 
boyhood. To each nature, its appropriate choice of 
pleasures. That human beings at a given level of intel- 
lectual and emotional development actually desire cer- 
tain things rather than certain others does not prove 
that those things are desirable in any general sense. It 
does not prove that men ought to desire them. For 
that proof we must look in some other direction; and a 
critical scrutiny of the pleasures which moralists ancient 
and modern have generally accepted as " higher " re- 
veals a common characteristic which explains their being 
thus classed together much better than the appeal to 
Mill's criterion. 12 

As has often been pointed out, Mill, while defending 
Utilitarianism, really passes beyond it, and his doctrine 
tends to merge in one widely different from that of 
Bentham. For the " Greatest Happiness Principle " he 
virtually substitutes the " Highest Happiness Principle." 
But he scarcely realizes the significance of his substitu- 
tion, and he gives an inadequate account of the sig- 
nificance of higher and lower. 

108. The Argument for Utilitarianism. — We have 
seen above that Bentham maintains that such words 
as " ought," " right" and " wrong " have no meaning 
unless interpreted after the fashion of the utilitarian. He 
admits that his "principle of utility " is not susceptible of 
direct proof, but claims that such a proof is needless. 13 

Accepting it as a fact revealed by observation that 

12 See chapter xxx, § 142. 

13 Principles oj Morals and Legislation, chapter i, 11. 



UTILITARIANISM 227 

the actual end of action on the part of every individual 
is his own happiness as he conceives it, he appears to 
have passed on without question to the further positions, 
that the proper- end of action of the individual is his 
own greatest happiness, and, yet, his proper end of ac- 
tion, as a member of a community, is the greatest hap- 
piness of the community. 14 

The second of these positions cannot be deduced from 
the first, nor can the third be inferred from the other 
two. Bentham appears to have taken the " principle of 
utility " for granted; but one coming after him and scruti- 
nizing his work can scarcely avoid raising the question 
of the justice of his assumption. That happiness is the 
only thing desirable, and that the happiness of all should 
be the object aimed at by each, are propositions which 
seem to stand in need of proof. 

Such proof Mill attempted to furnish. 15 He argues 
as follows: 

" The only proof capable of being given that an 
object is visible, is that people actually see it. The 
only proof that a sound is audible, is that people hear 
it ; and so of the other sources of our experience. In like 
manner, I apprehend, the sole evidence it is possible to 
produce that anything is desirable, is that people do 
actually desire it. If the end which the utilitarian doc- 
trine proposes to itself were not, in theory and practice, 
acknowledged to be an end, nothing could ever convince 

14 See the paper entitled "Logical Arrangements, Employed 
as Instruments in Legislation " etc., Memoirs, Bowring's Edition, 
Volume X, page 560. 

15 He does not regard his doctrine as provable in the usual 
sense ; but he adduces what he regards as " equivalent to proof." 
Utilitarianism, chapter i. 



228 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

any person that it was so. No reason can be given why 
the general happiness is desirable, except that each per- 
son, so far as he believes it to be attainable, desires his 
own happiness. This, however, being a fact, we have not 
only all the proof the case admits of, but all which 
it is possible to require, that happiness is a good: that 
each person's happiness is a good to that person, and 
the general happiness, therefore, a good to the aggregate 
of all persons. Happiness has made out its title as one 
of the ends of conduct, and, consequently one of the 
ends of morality." 16 

That happiness is the only ultimate end, Mill regards 
as established by the argument that other things, for 
example, virtue, though they come to be valued for 
themselves, do so only through the fact that, originally 
valued as means to the attainment of happiness, they 
become, through association, valued even out of this 
relation, and thus treated as a part of happiness. 17 

The defects in Mill's argument have made themselves 
apparent, not merely to the opponents of utilitarianism, 
but even to its advocates. 18 We cannot say that things 
are desirable in any moral sense, simply because they 
are desired. In a loose sense of the word, everything 
that is or has been desired by anyone is desirable — it 
evidently can be desired. When we say no more than 
this, we say nothing. But when we call a course of action 
desirable we mean more than this; and we are compelled 
to admit that a multitude of desirable things are not 
generally desired. This is the burden of the lament of 
every reformer. 

16 Utilitarianism, chapter iv. 

« Ibid. 

18 Sedgwick, The Methods oj Ethics, Book III, chapter xiii, § 5. 



UTILITARIANISM 229 

Furthermore, it does not appear to follow that, be- 
cause his own happiness is a good to each member of a 
community, the happiness of all must likewise be a 
good to each severally. A community in which every 
man studies his own interest may conceivably be a 
community in which no man regards it as desirable to 
consult the public weal. That the general happiness is 
desirable, in a loose sense of the word, is palpable fact; 
it is obvious that it can be desired, for some persons do 
actually desire it. But that it is desirable in any sense 
cannot be inferred from the fact that all men desire 
something else, namely, their own individual happiness. 

We must, then, look further for the proof of the 
utilitarian principle. Henry Sidgwick, that admirable 
scholar and most judicial mind, falls back upon certain 
intuitions which, he conceives, present themselves as 
ultimate and unassailable. He writes: 

" Let us reflect upon the clearest and most certain of 
our moral intuitions. I find that I undoubtedly seem 
to perceive, as clearly and certainly as I see any axiom 
in Arithmetic or Geometry, that it is ' right ' and ' reason- 
able ' for me to treat others as I should think that I 
myself ought to be treated under similar conditions, 
and to do what I believe to be ultimately conducive to 
universal Good or Happiness." 

And again: " The propositions, ' I ought not to pre- 
fer a present lesser good to a future greater good/ and 
* I ought not to prefer my own lesser good to the greater 
good of another,' do present themselves as self-evident; 
as much (e. g.) as the mathematical axiom that ' if 
equals be added to equals the wholes are equal.' " 19 

19 The Methods of Ethics, concluding chapter, § 5, and Book 
III, chapter xiii, § 3. 



230 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

Whether these intuitions will be accepted as furnish- 
ing an indisputably sound basis for utilitarianism will 
depend upon one's attitude toward intuitions in gen- 
eral and the list of intuitions one is inclined to accept. 
It is significant that Sidgwick does not accept as self- 
evident such subordinate propositions as, " I ought to 
speak the truth." He regards their authority as derived 
from the Greatest Happiness Principle. 

109. The Distribution of Happiness. — The man who 
accepts the Greatest Happiness Principle as the sole 
basis of his ethical doctrine is faced with the problem 
of its application in detail. The " greatest good of the 
greatest number " is a vague expression. What is prop- 
erly understood by " the greatest number " ? and upon 
what principle shall " lots " of happiness be assigned to 
each? Very puzzling questions arise when we approach 
the problem of the distribution of pleasures and the cal- 
culation of their values. Let us look at them. 

I. Who should be considered in the Distribution? 

(1) Shall we aim directly at the happiness of all men 
now living? or shall we content ourselves with a smaller 
number? Certainly, with increasing intelligence and 
broadening sympathies, men tend toward a more em- 
bracing benevolence. 

(2) Shall we admit to the circle generations yet un- 
born? and, if so, how far into the future should we look? 

(3) Should we make a deliberate attempt to increase 
the number of those who may share the common fund 
of happiness, by striving for an increase in the number 
of births? This end has been consciously sought for 
divers reasons. The ancestor-worship of China has made 
the Chinaman eagerly desirous of leaving behind him 



UTILITARIANISM 231 

those who would devote themselves to him after he has 
departed this life. Nations ancient and modern have 
endeavored to strengthen the state by providing for an 
increase in its population. Shall a similar end be pur- 
sued for the ethical purpose of widening the circle of 
those who shall live and be happy? Most ethical teach- 
ers do not appear to have regarded this as a corollary 
to the doctrine of benevolence. 

(4) Shall we enlarge the circle so as to include the 
lower animals? As Bentham expressed it: The question 
is not, Can they reason'! nor, Can they talk*? but, Can 
they suffer*! " 20 

II. How should the " lots " of happiness be measured? 

(1) Should everybody count as one, and nobody as 
more than one? in other words, should strict impartiality 
be aimed at? 

Dr. Westermarck's striking reply to the argument 
for impartiality as urged by Professor Sidgwick has al- 
ready been quoted. 21 Let the reader glance at it again. 

It must be confessed that to put one's parents, one's 
children, one's neighbors, strangers, foreigners, the brutes, 
all upon the same level, is contrary to the moral judg- 
ment of savage and civilized alike. It would seem con- 
trary to the sentiments which lie at the root of the 
family, the community, and the state. Nor have we 
reason to look forward to any future state of human 
society in which such lesser groups within the broad 
circle of humanity will be done away with, though 
they tend to become less exclusive in their demands 
upon human sympathy. 

20 Principles of Morals and Legislation, chapter xvii, § 4. 

21 See chapter v, § 16. 



232 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

(2) Suppose that the greatest sum of happiness on 
the whole could be best attained by an unequal distri- 
bution — by making a limited number very happy at 
the expense of the rest. Would this be justifiable? It 
would be in harmony with the Greatest Happiness Prin- 
ciple, though not with the principle of the greatest hap- 
piness equally shared. 

III. The question of the distribution of happiness in 
the life of the individual is not one to be ignored. If 
we are concerned only with the quantity of happiness, 
may we not take as the ethical precept " a short life 
and a merry one " — provided the brief span of years 
be merry enough, and there be no objection to the choice 
on the score of harm to others? 

This problem is closely analogous to that of the dis- 
tribution of pleasures to those who compose the " greatest 
number " taken into account. There we were concerned 
with the shares allotted to individuals; here we are 
concerned with the shares assigned to the different parts 
of a single life. In the attempt to solve the problem, 
Bentham's criteria of intensity, certainty, purity, etc., 
might naturally be appealed to. 

110. The Calculus of Pleasures. — Nor are the prob- 
lems which meet us less perplexing when we pass from 
questions of the distribution of pleasures to that of the 
calculus of pleasures. How are delights and miseries to 
be weighed, and reasonably balanced? 

(1) Men desire pleasure, and they desire to avoid 
pain. The two seem to be opposed. But men constantly 
accept pleasures which entail some suffering, and they 
avoid pains even at the expense of some pleasure. Are, 
however, pleasures and pains strictly commensurable? 



UTILITARIANISM 233 

How much admixture of pain is called for to reduce the 
value of a pleasure to zero? and how much pleasure, 
added to a pain, will make the whole emotional state 
predominantly a pleasurable one? A disagreeable taste 
and an agreeable odor may be experienced together, but 
they cannot be treated as an algebraic sum. If we do 
so treat them, we seem to fall back upon the assumption 
that the mere fact that the heterogeneous complex is 
accepted or rejected is evidence that its ingredients have 
been measured and compared. This is an ungrounded 
assumption. 

(2) Undoubtedly men prefer intense pleasures to mild 
ones, and those long-continued to those which are fleeting. 
But what degree of intensity will overbalance what 
period of duration? Here, again, we appear to be with- 
out a unit of measure, both in the case of pleasures and 
of pains. 

(3) Obviously, he who would distribute pleasures with 
impartiality must take into consideration the natures 
and capacities of the recipients. All are not susceptible 
of pleasure in the same degree, nor are all capable of 
enjoying the same pleasures. It is small kindness to a 
cat to offer it hay; nor will the miser thank us for the 
opportunity to enjoy the pleasures of liberality. The 
gift which arouses deep emotion in one man, will leave 
another cold. The diversity of natures would make the 
calculus of pleasures, in any accurate sense of the ex- 
pression, a most difficult problem, even if such a calcu- 
lus were admissible in the case of a single individual. 22 

111. The Difficulties of other Schools. — It would be 

22 This difficulty has not been overlooked by the Utilitarian, 
see Bentham, Principles of Morals and Legislation, chapter vi. 



234 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

unjust to the utilitarian not to point out that those who 
advocate other doctrines must find some way of coping 
with the difficulties which embarrass him. 

Thus, the egoist may ignore duties to others, but he 
cannot free himself from the problems of the distribution 
of happiness in his own life and of the calculus of pleas- 
ures. The intuitionist, who, among other precepts, ac- 
cepts as ultimate those enjoining upon him justice and 
benevolence, may well ask himself toward whom these 
virtues are to be exercised, and whether the claims of 
all who belong to the class in question are identical in 
kind and degree. If they are not, he must find some 
rule for estimating their relative importance. He who 
makes it his moral ideal to Follow Nature, to Strive for 
Perfection, or to Realize his Capacities, must determine 
in detail what conduct, self-regarding and other-regard- 
ing, the acceptance of such aims entails. Only the unre- 
flective can regard the utilitarian as having a monopoly 
of .the difficulties which face the moralist. The vague 
general statement that we should strive to render others 
happy — a duty recognized by men of very different 
schools — never frees us from the perplexities which 
arise when it is asked: What others? With what degree 
of impartiality? When? By what means? But that 
such questions can be approached by a path more satis- 
factory than that followed by the utilitarian, there is 
good reason to maintain. 23 

112. Summary of Arguments for Utilitarianism. — It 
is worth while to summarize what may be said for util- 
itarianism, and what may be said against it. It may 
be argued in its favor: 

23 See, below, chapter xxx, § § 140-142. 



UTILITARIANISM 235 

(1) That it appears to set as the aim of human 
endeavor, an intelligible end, and a fairly definite one. 
Everyone has some notion of what happiness means, 
and is not without ideas touching the way to seek his 
own happiness, or to contribute to that of others. 

(2) The end is one actually desired by men at all 
stages of intellectual and moral development. Men are 
impelled to seek their own happiness, and there are few 
who do not feel impelled to take into consideration, to 
some degree, at least, the happiness of some others. 

(3) The general happiness is not merely desired by 
some men, but it is felt to be desirable; that is, it is an 
end not out of harmony with the moral judgments of 
mankind. It makes its appeal to the social nature 
of man; it seems to furnish a basis for the exercise of 
benevolence and justice. 

(4) The utilitarian's clear recognition of the general 
happiness as the ultimate end of human endeavor, and 
his insistence that institutions, laws and moral maxims 
must be judged solely by their fitness to serve as means 
to that end, have made him an energetic apostle of re- 
form, and intolerant of old and passively accepted abuses. 
His insistence upon the principle of impartiality in the 
distribution of happiness has made him a champion of 
the inarticulate and the oppressed. Whatever one may 
think of his abstract principles, the general character 
of the specific measures he has advocated must meet 
with the approval of enlightened moralists of very dif- 
ferent schools. 

113. Arguments against Utilitarianism. — Against 
utilitarianism as an ethical theory various objections 
have been brought or may be brought. 



236 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

. (1) Objection may be taken to the utilitarian assump- 
tion that the only ultimate object of desire is pleasure or 
happiness. 

It was pointed out forcibly by Bishop Butler in the 
eighteenth century that men desire many things besides 
pleasure. Man's desires are an outcome of his nature, 
and that results in "particular movements towards par- 
ticular external objects" — honor, power, the harm or 
good of another. 24 To be sure, " no one can act but 
from a desire, or choice, or preference of his own," but 
this is no evidence that what he seeks in acting is 
always pleasure. Particular passions or appetites are, 
Butler ingeniously argues, " necessarily presupposed by 
the very idea of an interested pursuit ; since the very idea 
of interest or happiness consists in this, that an appetite 
or affection enjoys its object." 

Here we find our attention called to a very important 
truth, the significance of which there is danger of our 
overlooking. Pleasure or happiness is not something that 
can be parcelled up and handed about independently of 
the nature of the recipient. It is not everyone who can 
desire everything and feel pleasure in its attainment. 
That the objects of desire and will are many, and that 
the strivings of conscious creatures have in view many 
ends, and vary according to the impulsive and instinctive 
endowments of the creatures in question, has been well 
brought out in the admirable studies of instinct which 
we now have at our disposal. The most ardent devotee 
of pleasure must recognize, that only certain pleasures 
are open to him; that, such as they are, they are a 
revelation of his nature and capacities; that pleasures, 

24 Sermons, Preface, §29; cf. Sermon XI. 



UTILITARIANISM 237 

if sought at all, cannot be secured directly, but only as 
the result of a successful striving for objects not pleas- 
ures, which bring pleasure as their accompaniment. He 
who would have the pleasure of eating must desire 
food; and neither food, nor the eating of food, can be 
regarded as, per se, pleasure. The pleasure of the brood- 
ing hen is beyond the reach of man, who, however 
pleasure-loving, cannot desire to sit upon eggs, and so 
must forego the pleasure which, in the case of the bird, 
crowns that exercise. 

Such considerations as the above have led some moral- 
ists to define, as the end of desire, not pleasure, but self- 
satisfaction. Every desire, it is pointed out, strives to 
satisfy itself in the attainment of its appropriate ob- 
ject. With the attainment of the object, the desire has 
produced its proper fruit and ceases to be. It is ad- 
mitted that the satisfaction of desire is accompanied by 
pleasure, but it is denied that the pleasure may be prop- 
erly called the object of the desire, or regarded as calling 
it into being: " The appetite of hunger must pre- 
cede and condition the pleasure which consists in its 
satisfaction. It cannot therefore have that pleasure for 
its exciting object." 25 

At the same time it is conceded that the idea of a 
pleasure to be attained may " reinforce " the desire for 
an object, may " intensify the putting forth of energy," 
and may tend "to sustain and prolong any mode of 
action." 26 It is further conceded that pleasures may 

25 Green, Prolegomena to Ethics, Book III, chapter i, § 161. 
See also Book II, chapter ii, § 131 ; Book III, chapter i, § § 
154-160. 

26 Prolegomena to Ethics, § 161 ; Dewey, Ethics, chapter xiv, 
§ 1, p. 271 ; McDougall, Social Psychology, London, 1916, p. 43. 



238 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

be consciously aimed at, but it is urged that this does not 
result in true self-satisfaction, and is evidence of the 
existence of unhealthy desires. 27 

The utilitarian is not wholly helpless in the face of 
such objections. He may argue that, if it is difficult 
to see how a pleasure which is the result of a desire may 
cause the desire, it is equally difficult to see how it may 
prolong, reinforce or intensify it. And he may maintain 
that, although the pursuit of pleasure, in certain forms, is 
calculated to defeat its own aim and is undoubtedly un- 
healthy, this need not be the case if one's aim be the true 
utilitarian one — the happiness of all. The direct attack 
upon his Greatest Happiness Principle which consists 
in the objection that, if pleasure is the only object of 
desire, a sum of pleasures, as not being a pleasure, can- 
not be desired, 28 he can put aside with the remark that 
no far-reaching and comprehensive aim can be realized 
at one stroke. I can desire a long and useful life; this 
cannot be had all at once. I can desire a long life full 
of pleasures; this cannot be enjoyed all at once either. 
But each can certainly be the object of desire. 

But, when all is said, it remains true that the conten- 
tion of those, who distinguish sharply between the satis- 
faction of desire and the attainment of pleasure, is of 
no little importance. It calls our attention to the follow- 
ing truths: 

(a) We have definite instincts and impulses which 
tend to satisfy themselves with their appropriate objects. 

(b) At their first exercise, our aim could not have been 
the pleasure resulting from their satisfaction, for that 
could not have been foreseen. 

27 Prolegomena to Ethics, §158; Dewey, Ethics p. 270. 

28 Prolegomena to Ethics, § 221. 



UTILITARIANISM 239 

(c) Although, after experience, the attainment of pleas- 
ure may come to be our aim in the exercise of many activ- 
ities, and may often, as far as we can see, be a natural 
and not unwholesome aim; it is by no means evident 
that, even when we are experienced and reflective, the 
exercise of our faculties comes to be regarded only as 
a means to the attainment of pleasure. 

(d) The hedonist, in maintaining that pleasure is the 
only ultimate object of desire, appears, thus, to be com- 
mitted to the doctrine that the satisfaction of all other 
desires is subordinated to the satisfaction of the desire 
for pleasure. For this position he can furnish no adequate 
proof. Self-evident the doctrine is not. 

(e) It is incumbent upon him, as a moralist, to prove, 
not merely that all other satisfactions are, but also that 
they ought to be subordinated to the satisfaction of the 
desire for pleasure. This he appears to assume without 
proof. 

(2) We have seen above 29 that the fundamental prin- 
ciple of utilitarian hedonism, as against egoistic, namely, 
the making the Greatest Happiness of the Greatest 
Number the object of the endeavors of each individual, 
has not been satisfactorily established by leading utili- 
tarians. Bentham assumes the principle; Mill advances 
a doubtful argument; Sidgwick falls back upon intuitions 
which all will not admit to be indubitable. To his asser- 
tion: " Reason shows me that if my happiness is desir- 
able and a good, the equal happiness of any other person 
must be equally desirable," 30 the doubter may reply: 
Desirable to whom? to him or to me? 

29 See § 108. 

30 The Methods oj Ethics, Book III, chapter xiv, § 5. 



240 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

(3) Finally, it may be objected that the consistent 
utilitarian, in making pleasure, abstractly taken, the 
only ultimate good, and in regarding as the sole criterion 
of right actions their tendency to produce pleasure, really 
tears pleasure out of its moral setting altogether. 

Thus Bentham's contention 31 that the pleasure a man 
may derive from the exercise of malice or cruelty is, 
" taken by itself," good — while it lasts, and before any 
bad consequences have set in, as good as any other that 
is not more intense — derives what plausibility it has, 
from an ambiguity in the word " good." Pleasure, taken 
by itself, is undoubtedly pleasure, whatever be its source. 
To affirm this is mere tautology. And, if we chose to 
make " good " but a synonym for pleasure, we remain in 
the same tautology when we affirm that every pleasure is 
a good. But Bentham assumed that good in this sense 
and moral good are the same thing. 

His assumption is not borne out by the moral judgments 
of mankind. Even a cursory view of those moral judg- 
ments as revealed in customs, laws and public opinion 
makes it evident that, under certain circumstances, 
pleasure is regarded as, from a moral standpoint, a good, 
and, under other circumstances, an evil. Torn out of its 
setting, it is simply pleasure, a psychological phenomenon 
like any other, with no ethical significance. 

Take the case of the pleasure enjoyed by the malignant 
man. It may be intense, if he be peculiarly susceptible 
to such pleasure. The pain suffered by his victim may 
conceivably be less intense; Both may die before the 
" bad consequences," that is to say, other pains, arrive. 
There may be no spectators. Is, in such a case, the pleas- 

31 § 106, above. 



UTILITARIANISM 241 

lire one to be called a " good " ? Can it be approved ? 
No reflective moralist would maintain that it can. Which 
means that the moralists, in all ages, have meant by 
" good " something more than pleasure, taken abstractly, 
and that Bentham's assumption may be regarded as an 
aberration. 

114. Transfigured Utilitarianism. — It is possible to 
hold to a utilitarianism more circumspect and less start- 
ling than Bentham's. It is possible, while maintaining 
that pleasure is the only thing that an experienced and 
reasonable being can regard as ultimately desirable, 
to maintain at the same time that it is rash for any man 
to attempt to seek his own happiness, or to strive to pro- 
mote the general happiness, without taking into very 
careful consideration the instincts and impulses of man 
and the nature of the social organization which has re- 
sulted from man's being what he is. One may argue 
that the experience of the race is, as a rule, a safer guide 
than the independent judgment of the individual; and 
that, in the secular endeavor to compass the general 
happiness, it has discovered the paths to that goal which 
may most successfully be followed. Thus, one may dis- 
trust Utopian schemes, recognizing the significance of 
custom, law, traditional moral maxims, and public opin- 
ion, and yet remain a utilitarian. 

But he who does this must still answer the preceding 
objections. He must prove: (1) That pleasure is the 
only thing ultimately desirable; (2) that each is under 
obligation to promote the pleasure of all; (3) that its 
mere conduciveness to the production of a preponderance 
of pleasure makes an action right, even though the pleas- 
ure be a malicious one, as in the illustration above given. 



242 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

Still, his doctrine has become less startling, and he has 
moved in the direction of a greater harmony with the 
moral judgments of men generally. The conduct he rec- 
ommends need not, as a rule, differ greatly from that 
recognized as right by moralists of quite different schools. 

Such a utilitarian may easily pass over to a form of 
doctrine which is not utilitarian at all. Thus, Sidgwick 
asks whether there is a measurable quality of feeling 
expressed by the word " pleasure," which is independent 
of its relation to volition, and strictly undefinable from 
its simplicity — " like the quality of feeling expressed 
by ' sweet/ of which also we are conscious in varying 
degrees of intensity;" and he answers: " For my own part, 
when the term (pleasure) is used in the more extended 
sense which I have adopted, to include the most refined 
and subtle intellectual and emotional gratifications, no 
less than the coarser and more definite sensual enjoy- 
ments, I can find no common quality in the feelings so 
designated except some relation to desire or volition." 32 

When we seek, then, to " give pleasure," are we doing 
nothing else than giving recognition to the desire and will 
of our neighbor? What has become of the Greatest Hap- 
piness Principle? Has it not dissolved into the doctrine 
of the Real Social Will? 

32 The Methods of Ethics, Book II, chapter ii, § 2, 4th Edition. 
Sidgwick never appreciably modified this opinion, which is 
most clearly expressed in the Edition quoted. 



CHAPTER XXVI 
NATURE, PERFECTION, SELF-REALIZATION 

I. Nature 

115. Human Nature as Accepted Standard. — The 

three doctrines, that the norm of moral action is to follow 
nature, that it is to aim at the attainment of perfection, 
and that it is the realization of one's capabilities, have 
much in common. They may conveniently be treated 
in the same chapter. 

Early in the history of the ethics we find the moralist 
preaching that it is the duty of man to follow nature, 
and branding vice as unnatural and, hence, to be 
abhorred. 

The word " nature," thus used, has had a fluctuating 
meaning. Sometimes the thought has been predomi- 
nantly of human nature, and sometimes the appeal has 
been to nature in a wider sense. 

Aristotle, who finds the " good " of man in happiness 
or " well-being," points out that this is something 
relative to man's nature. The well-being of a man 
he conceives as, in large part, " well-doing," and well- 
doing he defines as performing the proper functions of 
a man. 1 If we ask him what is proper or natural to man, 
he refers us to what man, when fully developed, becomes: 
" What every being is in its completed state, that cer- 

1 Nichomachean Ethics, Book I. chapters iv, vii, viii. 
243 



244 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

tainiy is the nature of that thing, whether it be a man, 
a house, or a horse." 2 He conceives man's nature, thus, 
as that which it is in man to become. Toward this end 
man strives; and it is this which furnishes him with the 
law of his action. 

But, it may be asked, how shall this end be defined in 
detail? Individual men, who arrive at mature years, 
are by no means alike. Some we approve; some we dis- 
approve. We evidently appeal to a standard by which 
the individual is judged. The appeal to the nature of 
man helps us little unless we can agree upon what we 
may accept as a just revelation of that nature — a pat- 
tern of some sort, divergence from which may be called 
unnatural, and is to be reprobated. 

Neither Aristotle, nor those who, after him, took human 
nature as the moral norm, were without some conception 
of such a pattern. They kept in view certain things that 
men may become rather than certain others. They ac- 
cepted as their standard a type of human nature which 
tends, on the whole, to realize itself more and more in 
the course of development of human communities. But 
as different human societies differ more or less in the 
characteristics which they tend to transmit to their mem- 
bers, in the kind of man whom they tend to form, we 
find the ideal of human nature, with which we are pre- 
sented, somewhat vague and fluctuating. Different traits 
are dwelt upon by different moralists. Still, the appeals 
to human nature have a good deal in common; upon 
man's rational and social qualities especial stress is apt 
to be laid. 

116. Human Nature and the Law of Nature. — 

2 Politics, i, 2. 



NATURE, SELF-REALIZATION 245 

" Every nature," said Marcus Aurelius, 3 " is contented 
with itself when it goes on its way well; and a rational 
nature goes on its way well, when in its thoughts it as- 
sents to nothing false or uncertain, and when it directs 
its movements to social acts only, and when it confines 
its desires and aversions to the things which are in its 
power, and when it is satisfied with everything that is 
assigned to it by the common Nature." 

In the last clause the Stoic turns from the contempla- 
tion of man's nature, taken by itself, and dwells upon 
the nature of the universe, which he conceives to be con- 
trolled by reason. He thus gains an added argument 
for the obligations laid upon man by his own nature. 
He writes: 

" Every instrument, tool, vessel, if it does that for 
which it has been made, is well, and yet he who made it 
is not there. But in the things which are held together 
by Nature there is within and there abides in them the 
power which made them; wherefore the more is it fit to 
reverence this power, and to think that, if thou dost 
live and act according to its will, everything in thee is 
is in conformity to intelligence." 4 

The law of man's nature is, thus, regarded as a part of 
the law of Nature — " We are all working together to 
one end, some with knowledge and design, and others 
without knowing what they do." 5 And, this being the 
case, man may take pattern, when he is inclined to fall 
below the standard of duty appropriate to him, by con- 
sidering humbler creatures : " Dost thou not see the little 

3 Thoughts, translated by George Long, viii, 7. 

4 Ibid vi, 40. 
6 Ibid, vi, 42. 



246 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

plants, the little birds, the ants, the spiders, the bees 
working together to put in order their several parts of 
the universe? And art thou unwilling to do the work of 
a human being? And dost thou not make haste to do that 
which is according to thy nature? " 6 The delinquent is, 
hence, judged guilty, not merely of derogation from his 
high estate, but also of impiety. 7 

117. Vagueness of the Law of Nature. — The question 
of the influence of religious belief upon a theory of morals 
I shall discuss elsewhere. 8 Here it is only necessary to 
point out that, if there is vagueness in the appeal to 
human nature, it can scarcely be dissipated satisfactorily 
by simply turning to Nature in a broader sense. Shall we, 
when in doubt as to human behavior, copy that of the 
brutes? The industry of some humble creatures it seems 
edifying to dwell upon; but from the fact that bees are 
stung to death by their sisters in the hive, or that the 
spider is given to devouring her mate, we can hardly 
draw a moral lesson for man. 

The appeal to a Law of Nature so often made in the 
history of ethical speculation has furnished but a vague 
and elusive norm. He who makes it is apt to fall back 
upon the moral intuitions with which he is furnished, 
and to pack a greater or less number of them into his 
notion of Natural Law. 9 

In Cicero, Nature becomes fairly garrulous to man on 

6 Ibid, v, 1. 

7 Ibid, ix, 1. 

8 See chapter xxxvi. 

9 See Sir Henry Maine's fascinating chapters on the " Law 
of Nature," Ancient Law, chapters iii and iv. The innumerable 
appeals to the Law of Nature contained in Grotius's famous work 
on the " Law of War and Peace " are very illuminating. 



NATURE, SELF-REALIZATION 247 

all matters of deportment: " Let us follow Nature, and 
refrain from whatever lacks the approval of eye and ear. 
Let attitude, gait, mode of sitting, posture at table, 
countenance, eyes, movement of the hands, preserve the 
becomingness of which I speak." 10 

118. The Appeal to Nature and Intuitionism. — 
The moralists who urge us to follow nature, whether 
human nature or Nature in a wider sense, we may, hence, 
regard as intuitionists of a sort. Those who emphasize 
human nature evidently depend upon their moral intui- 
tions to give them information as to its characteristics. 
It is intuition that paints for them their pattern. They 
do not take man as they actually find him; they call for 
the suppression of some traits, and the exaggeration of 
others. 

Nor are those who appeal to Nature in a wider sense 
less guided by moral intuitions. The appeal is never made 
without restrictions and limitations. No one dreams that 
the bird, the ant, the spider, the bee, can be regarded as 
satisfactory teachers of morals to human beings. Each 
may be occupied in putting in order its corner of the uni- 
verse; but the order attained is not a human order, and 
there is in it much that is revolting to the moral judg- 
ments of mankind. Man must have a standard of his own. 
He listens to Nature only when she tells him what he 
already approves. 

As a form of intuitionism the doctrine of following 
nature may be criticised in much the same way as other 
forms. One great merit it has. It calls attention to the 
fact that ethics is a discipline which has no significance 
abstracted from the nature of man. It appears absurd 

10 De Officiis, i, 35, translated by Peabody. 



248 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

to say that man ought to do what it is not in man, under 
any conceivable circumstances, to do. And, like other 
forms of intuitionism, it has the merit of avoiding that 
short-circuiting which may easily prove seductive to the 
egoist or the utilitarian. He who accepts as his end 
either his own happiness or that of men generally may 
easily be induced to take short cuts to that end, and pay 
little attention to moral maxims as such. He may treat 
lightly that great system of rules and observances by 
which men are guided in their relations with one another, 
and which prevent human societies from relapsing into 
a chaos. 

On the other hand, the follower of nature, like other 
intuitionists, may easily be thrown into perplexity by 
the fact that what seems to him natural, and, hence, right, 
may not be approved by other men. He cannot prove 
that he is right and they are wrong. He appears con- 
demned to take refuge in subjective conviction, that is, 
in mere dogmatism. 

II. Perfection 

119. Perfection and Type. — When we speak of a 
thing as more or less perfect, we commonly mean that it 
is more or less perfect in its kind. A good saw makes a 
poor razor; a good chair, a more than indifferent bed. 
A bee crushed by a blow, a bird with a broken wing, we 
regard as imperfect. But it scarcely occurs to us to ask 
ourselves whether the bee is more or less perfect than the 
bird, or the bird than the spider. Swift's Houyhnhnms 
at their best could not be either perfect horses or perfect 
men. They were creatures with a perfection of their 
own, and one appropriate to their hybrid nature. 



NATURE, SELF-REALIZATION 249 

To every creature its own perfection. This principle 
men seem to assume tacitly in their judgments. They 
set up a standard for each kind, and they conceive the 
individual to attain or to fall short, according to the de- 
gree of its approach to, or of its divergence from, the 
allotted standard. 

If we take perfection in this sense — and we usually 
have no other sense in mind in our judgments of perfec- 
tion — the doctrine that it is the whole duty of man to 
strive to attain to perfection is none other than the doc- 
trine that it is his duty to follow nature, his proper 
nature as man. And any difficulties which may legiti- 
mately be urged upon the attention of the moralist who 
recommends the following of nature may with equal 
justice be urged upon the attention of him who exhorts 
us to aim at perfection. 

Thus, if it is doubtful just what nature demands of 
us, it seems no less doubtful what obligations are laid 
upon us when we make perfection our goal. That goal 
cannot mean for each man simply the developing to the 
utmost of all the capacities which he possesses. There 
are men rich in the possibilities of sloth, of indifference 
to future good, of egoism, even of malignant feeling. 
Nor does the average man furnish the pattern of per- 
fection. The perfectionist does not regard the average 
man as the embodiment of his ideal. He seeks to 
better him. 

That, in striving to attain perfection, a man should 
remain a man, with essentially human characteristics, 
seems evident. But what sort of a man he should be is 
not as clear. Until we are in a position to give some 
reasoned account of what we mean by perfection as an 



250 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

ideal, and to show that it is a desirable goal for man, 
we appear to be setting up but a vague end for human 
endeavor, and to be assuming intuitively that it is a 
desirable end. 

120. More and Less Perfect Types. — So much for 
perfection as synonymous with the ideal human nature 
of which ancient and modern moralists have treated. 
It appears, however, possible to use the word " perfec- 
tion " in a somewhat different sense. 

Man is not merely man; he is a living being, and there 
are living beings of many orders. The plants, the sim- 
pler forms of animal life, the brutes which we recognize 
as standing nearer to us, and man may, from this point 
of view, be referred to the one series. Some members 
of this series we characterize as lower, and others we 
speak of as higher in the scale. 

Now, such designations as higher and lower cannot 
be applied indiscriminately. There is little sense in the 
assertion that a bit of string is higher than a straight 
line, or a hat than a handkerchief. Some significant 
basis of comparison must be present. Things must be 
recognized as approximating to or diverging from an 
accepted standard in varying degrees. 

Such a basis of comparison is present when some ob- 
jects possess the same qualities in a more marked degree 
than do others. But this is not the only possible basis of 
comparison. We may assume that the possession of cer- 
tain qualities marks a creature as higher, and that the 
creature which has them not, or has them imperfectly 
developed, thereby stamps itself as being of a lower 
order. 

Something like this appears to determine our judgments 



NATURE, SELF-REALIZATION 251 

when we assign to various creatures their place in the 
scale of living beings. We do not mean that the higher 
possess to a greater degree all the capacities possessed 
by the lower. Many things which the plant does man 
cannot do at all; and, among the animals, those which 
we recognize as higher may be lacking in many capaci- 
ties present in a marked degree in the lower. In rank- 
ing one living creature as higher, and, thus, as more 
perfect, than another, we assume that the " nature " 
of the one, with its various capacities and lacks of 
capacity, is, on the whole, of more worth than the 
" nature " of another. 

It might be maintained that, in his estimate of the 
worth of different kinds of beings man is influenced by 
his partiality for the distinctively human, rating 
creatures as lower or higher in proportion to their di- 
vergence from or approximation to his own type. Un- 
doubtedly this plays a part in men's judgments. We 
are partial to ourselves. And yet judgments of per- 
fection and imperfection cannot wholly be explained 
on this principle. 

" I think we must admit without proof," writes Pro- 
fessor Janet, 11 a brilliant apostle of the doctrine of per- 
fection, " that things are good, even independently of 
the pleasure which they give us, in themselves and by 
themselves, because of their intrinsic excellence. If 
anyone were to demand that I should prove that thought 
is worth more than digestion, a tree more than a heap 
of stones, liberty than slavery, maternal love than lux- 
ury, I could only reply by asking him to demonstrate 

11 The Theory of Morals, Book I, chapter iii, English transla- 
tion, New York, 1883, p. 48. 



252 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

that the whole is greater than one of its parts. No sen- 
sible person denies that, in passing from the mineral 
kingdom to the vegetable kingdom, from this to the 
animal kingdom, from the animal to man, from the sav- 
age to th3 enlightened citizen of a free country, Nature 
has made a continual advance; that is to say, at each 
step has gained in excellence and perfection." 

One is naturally impelled to ask from what point of 
view things so disparate as the mineral, the plant, the 
brute, man, thought and digestion, liberty and slavery, 
can be compared with one another at all, and referred 
to any sort of a series. What is, in its essence, this ex- 
cellence or perfection of which we have more shining 
evidence as we go up in the scale? Janet identifies 
it with intensity of being, with activity. The greater 
the activity, the greater the perfection. 

To the identification of perfection and activity we 
may hesitate to assent. It does not seem clear that there 
is greater activity manifested in a snail than in a burn- 
ing house, in maternal love than in furious hate, in 
quiet thought than in passion. Yet it seems significant 
that judgments of worth do not appear out of place in 
comparing such things. 

121. Perfectionism and Intuitionism. — Taking into 
consideration all that is said above, it seems not un- 
reasonable to conclude: 

(1) That in speaking of the perfection of any creature 
we very often judge it only by the standard set by its 
own type. We regard it as a good specimen of its kind. 

(2) But when we use perfection in a wider sense, 
we judge different types after the standard furnished 
by the distinctively human. 



NATURE, SELF-REALIZATION 253 

(3) And we take as our standard of the human the 
" pattern " man held in view by those who urge us to 
follow nature. 

But why should this pattern man be assumed to be 
better or worthier than a man of a different sort? He 
who finds in him a greater exhibition of activity may 
with equal justice address to himself the question: Why 
is activity, in itself, of value? The one question, like 
the other, looks for its answer in the dictum of some 
intuition. What may be said for, and what against, 
intuitions, we have already considered. 12 

III. Self-realization 

122. The Self-realization Doctrine. — The ethical 
school which makes the realization of the capacities of 
the self the aim of moral action has for a generation, 
especially in England and America, had the support 
of many acute and scholarly minds. The doctrine, often 
spoken of as the Neo-Kantian or the Neo-Hegelian, may 
be said to be influenced by Kant, so far as concerns meta- 
physical theory, but its ethical character is more properly 
Hegelian and suggests in many particulars that great 
German philosopher's " Philosophy of Right." 

We may conveniently take as the protagonist of the 
school the Oxford scholar, Thomas Hill Green, whose 
" Prolegomena to Ethics " has had, directly and indi- 
rectly, a powerful influence upon the minds of the men 
of our generation. 

We find the doctrine of self-realization, as set forth 
by Green, to be as follows: 

(1) In all desire some object is presented to the mind 

12 See chapter xxiii. 



254 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

as not yet real, and there is a striving to make it real, 
and thus to satisfy, or extinguish, the desire. 13 

(2) Self-consciousness knits the desires into a system, 
and thus attains to the conception of " well-being," which 
implies the satisfaction of desire in general, and not 
merely of this or that desire. 14 

(3) " Good " is that which satisfies some desire. Any 
good at which an agent aims must be his own good ; and 
" true good " is nothing else than " permanent well- 
being." 15 

(4) A desire is determined by the nature of the crea- 
ture desiring; man can attain satisfaction only in the 
realization of his capacities. His true good lies only 
in their complete realization — in his becoming all that 
it is in him to become. 16 

(5) But man is a social being, and has an interest 
in other persons than himself. Hence his complete self- 
satisfaction implies the satisfaction of his social as well 
as of his other impulses. That is, his true good includes 
the good of others. 17 

(6) We can only discover what our " capacities " are 
by observing them as so far realized, and thus gaining 
the idea of future progress. The ultimate end is un- 
known to us. 18 

(7) But we see enough to recognize that man's capac- 
ities can be realized, his self-satisfaction intelligently 
sought, only in a social state based upon the notion of 

13 Prolegomena to Ethics, § 131. 

14 Ibid., § 128. 

15 Ibid., § § 190, 92, 203. 

16 Ibid., § § 171-2, 180. 

17 Ibid., § § 199-205. 
" Ibid., § 172. 



NATURE, SELF-REALIZATION 255 

the common good. The right reveals itself in the actual 
evolution of society. 19 

123. The Doctrine Akin to That of Following Na- 
ture. — The self-realization doctrine has much in com- 
mon with the doctrine of following nature. Thus: 

1. It evidently does not recommend the realization of 
all the capacities of the individual as such, but holds in 
view a " pattern " man. 

2. This is social man, the true representative of human 
nature as conceived by the ancient Stoic. Green holds 
before himself " the ideal of a society in which every- 
one shall treat everyone else as his neighbor, in which 
to every rational agent the well-being or perfection of 
every other such agent shall be included in that perfection 
for which he lives." 20 The same thought was more pithily 
expressed by Marcus Aurelius in the aphorism that 
" what is good for the hive is good for the bee." 

3. We find, too, the analogue of that wider appeal to 
nature which suffused the Stoic doctrine with religious 
feeling. In the above brief recapitulation of the steps 
in the self-realization doctrine I have omitted this aspect, 
as I wished to confine myself to the ethical doctrine pure 
and simple. But Green conceives of the Divine Con- 
sciousness as already having before it the consummation 
toward which man strives in his efforts at self-realiza- 
tion; he regards man as working toward the attainment 
of a Divine Purpose. The self-realizationist may prefer, 
sometimes, to use language more abstract. He may say: 
" Man's consciousness of himself as a member of society 
involves a reference to a cosmic order." 21 But the dif- 

19 Ibid., § § 172-76, 205. 

20 Prolegomena to Ethics, § 205. 

21 Muirhead, The Elements of Ethics, Book I, chapter iii, § 10. 



256 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

ference of language scarcely carries with it a substantial 
difference of thought. 22 

4. As the appeal to human nature, or to nature in a 
broader sense, left the norm for the guidance of human 
actions somewhat vague, so the appeal to the principle of 
self-realization seems to leave one without very definite 
guidance. There may easily arise disputes touching 
what capacities are to be realized, and in what degree. 

124. Is the Doctrine more Egoistic? — One difference 
between the principles of following nature, striving to at- 
tain to perfection, and aiming at self-realization seems to 
force itself upon our notice. On the surface, at least, the 
last doctrine appears to stand out as more distinctly ego- 
istic. The very name has an egoistic flavor; the doctrine 
bases itself upon the satisfaction of desire; nor do its 
advocates hesitate to emphasize that the satisfaction 
sought is the satisfaction of the agent desiring. In the 
chapter on Egoism 23 I have cited some utterances which 
sound egoistic, and such citations might be multiplied. 

Nevertheless, from this egoistic root springs a flower 
which disseminates the perfume of a saintly self-abne- 
gation. How is this seeming miracle accomplished? 

The transition is brought about through a chain of 
reasoning which is subtle and ingenious in the extreme. 
Must we not admit that in all purposive action — the 
only action with which the moralist need concern himself 
— there is a striving to realize or satisfy desire in the 

22 " Though the philosopher as such may shun the term ' God ' 
on account of its anthropomorphic associations, and may prefer 
to speak of the ' conscious principle/ or of the ' universal self/ 
yet the latter has in substance the same meaning as the former." 
Fite, An Introductory Study of Ethics, chapter xiii, §4. 

23 Chapter xxiv. 



NATURE, SELF-REALIZATION 257 

attainment of some object? And if the desires of a mind 
or self converge upon some object, does not its realization 
imply the satisfaction or realization of the desires of 
that mind or self? Furthermore, if our desires have as 
their roofour capacities — for we can desire nothing that 
it is not in us to desire — is not the realization of desire 
the realization of capacity? Does it not follow, hence, 
that every mind or self, in all purposive action, is striv- 
ing, either blunderingly or with far-sighted intelligence, 
to attain to self-satisfaction, which means, to the reali- 
zation of its capacities? Finally, as men are by nature 
social creatures, how can a man fully realize his capaci- 
ties without becoming a truly unselfish being? Unsel- 
fishness appears to be the inevitable goal of the strivings 
for self-satisfaction of an unselfish self. 

125. Why Aim to Realize Capacities? — This reason- 
ing appears highly satisfactory in two very different 
ways. It seems, on the one hand, to stop the mouth of 
the egoist, who insists that his own advantage is his only 
proper aim. It assures him that he is throughout seeking 
his own advantage, when he aims at self-realization. 
On the other hand, it assures the man to whom egoism 
appears repellant and immoral, that self-realization 
implies that one must love one's neighbor as oneself. 
The immemorial quarrel between self-love and benevo- 
lence appears to be adjusted to the mutual satisfaction 
of both parties. 

Is the reasoning unassailable? There are two steps in 
it which appear to demand a closer scrutiny. One is 
the transition from desire to capacity ; the other, the as- 
sumption that he who follows an unselfish impulse may 
properly be said to aim at self-satisfaction, and to ex- 
ercise no self-denial. 



258 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

As to the first. Our desires may have their roots in 
our capacities, but desires and capacities are, neverthe- 
less, not the same thing. 

Men do actually strive to realize their desires — a 
desire is nothing else than such a striving for realization 
or satisfaction. But it cannot be said that men generally 
strive to realize their capacities, except to the limited 
degree in which their capacities may happen to be ex- 
pressed in actual desires. Capacities may lie dormant, 
and the man in whom they lie dormant need not on that 
account feel dissatisfied, as does the man w T hose desires 
are not realized. Self-realization, as understood by the 
school of thinkers which advocates it, implies much more 
than the satisfaction of desire. It implies the multiplica- 
tion of desires and their satisfaction. On what ground 
shall we persuade the contented egoist, who has but a 
handful of commonplace desires and finds it possible to 
satisfy most of them, that it is better to call into being 
a multitude of wants many of which will probably re- 
main unrealized? He may point out that the divine 
discontent is apt to leave the idealist and the reformer 
as lean as Cassius. All of which does not prove that 
the self-realizationist is not right in exhorting men to 
develop their capacities in the direction of the pattern 
which he holds in view; but it does seem to prove 
that the path to self-realization, in this sense, is not nec- 
essarily the path to self-satisfaction. " The good " has 
come to mean more than that which satisfies desire. How 
shall we persuade men that it is their duty to make this 
good their end? 

126. The Problem of Self-sacrifice. — As for the 
second point. He who makes his moral aim self-satisfac- 
tion can scarcely b£ expected to advocate self-sacrifice- 



NATURE, SELF-REALIZATION 259 

Accordingly, we find among self-realizationists, a tend- 
ency to repudiate altogether what may properly be called 
self-denial. " Anything conceived as good in such a way 
that the agent acts for the sake of it," said Green, 24 
" must be conceived as his own good." " A moment's 
consideration will show," writes Professor Fite, in his 
clear and attractive book, 25 " that, for self-sacrifice in 
any absolute sense, no ground of obligation is conceiv- 
able. Unless I am in some way interested in the 
object 26 whose attainment is set before me as a duty, 
it seems to be psychologically impossible that I should 
ever strive for it." 

Now we do seem compelled to concede that, unless a 
man desires an end, he cannot will that end. Anything 
that is selected as an end, and striven for, must be desired. 
And the attainment of the end implies, of course, the 
satisfaction of that particular desire. But, admitting 
all this, is not the question left open whether some de- 
sires may not be sacrificed to others; and whether, indeed, 
a whole extensive system of desires may not, on occasion, 
be sacrificed to a single desire? In this case, may not 
the transaction properly be called self-sacrifice? Sup- 
pose the desire to serve one's neighbor, if satisfied, pre- 
vents the realization of a multitude of other desires of 
the same agent. Is it certain that its satisfaction does 
not imply self-denial? 

127. Self-satisfaction and Self-sacrifice. — The argu- 
ment to prove that it is not really self-sacrifice may 
follow divers paths. 

24 Prolegomena, § 92. 

25 An Introductory Study of Ethics, chapter viii, § 5. 

26 I.e., unless I desire the object. 



260 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

Thus, it may be argued that, since the proper end of 
a rational being is his own permanent good, the sacrifice 
of such goods as do not conduce to this end is not self- 
sacrifice. Sensual pleasures, the satisfaction of vanity or 
ambition, the accomplishment of a vengeful purpose, an 
excessive preoccupation with one's own interests as con- 
trasted with those of others — such things as these, it is 
claimed, do not permanently satisfy. That the so-called 
man of pleasure is a man upon whom pleasures pall, and 
that he who seeks too earnestly to save his own life is 
apt to lose it, has been reiterated by a long line of profes- 
sional and lay moralists from Buddha to Tolstoi. The 
refuge from the discontent arising out of the attempt 
to quench one's thirst by sipping at transient delights has 
always been found in altruism under some guise. The 
self-realizationists may claim that certain things are 
given up in order that other things more permanently 
satisfying to the self may be attained, and may deny 
that this is any renunciation of self-satisfaction. 27 

Again. It may be argued that men's interests do not 
conflict as widely as is commonly supposed. To be 
sure, two men may have to struggle with each other for 
the pleasure of eating a given apple, of making a pecu- 
niary profit, of obtaining a coveted post, of being the first 
authority in a given science or art, of securing the affec- 
tions of a particular woman. Here one man's loss seems 
to be another man's gain. But two men may enjoy seeing 
a child eat an apple, or a deserving man profit, or their 
common candidate win the election, or their favorite 
artist honored, or their beloved nephew accepted by the 
lady of his choice. If one desires certain things, and 
27 Green, op. cit., § 176. 



NATURE, SELF-REALIZATION 261 

certain things only, there seems no reason why one's 
desires should not be in harmony with those of others. 

The things best worth having, it is claimed, do not 
admit of being competed for. 28 If my aim is unselfish 
devotion to humanity, how can I lose if my neighbor 
attains in the same running? Do virtuous men, in so far 
as they are virtuous, stand in each other's light? Are 
there not as many prizes as there are competitors? As 
long as I remain in this field I may seek self-satisfaction 
without scruple. I satisfy another's desire in satisfying 
my own. By benevolence I lose nothing. 

The list of things which one may forego without self- 
sacrifice has been made a long one. Even the realiza- 
tion of capacities highly valued by cultivated men has 
been brought into it: 

" No conflict," writes Professor Seth, 29 " is possible be- 
tween the ends of the individual and those of society. 
The individual may be called upon to sacrifice, for 
example, his opportunity of esthetic or intellectual cul- 
ture; but in that very sacrifice lies his opportunity of 
moral culture, of true self-realization." 

128. Can Moral Self-sacrifice be a Duty?-— To this 
position one is tempted to demur until two questions 
have found a satisfactory answer: 

1. Is it true that there is no sacrifice of self-realization 
or self-satisfaction, properly so called, where all other 
desires and impulses are sacrificed to the one desire to 
do right? 

2. Is it not conceivable, at least, that obedience to an 

28 Green, Prolegomena to Ethics, § § 244-245. 

29 A Study of Ethical Principles, Part II, chapter ii, §4, 
Edinburgh, 1911, p. 286. 



262 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

unselfish impulse may result even in the sacrifice of the 
opportunities of moral culture in general? Can it, then, 
be called self-realization? 

Touching the first question it may plausibly be main- 
tained that the desires of the self are many and various, 
and that the satisfaction of an altruistic impulse may 
imply the sacrifice of so many of them that the self 
may very doubtfully be said to attain to permanent sat- 
isfaction when the impulse is realized. Aristotle's hero, 
who, in dying for his country, chooses the more " honor- 
able " for himself, 30 can hardly be said in that one act 
to have accomplished a state of permanent satisfaction 
or well-being for the self whose being was, in that act, 
brought to an abrupt termination. Certain Stoics seem 
to have taught that virtue is its own adequate reward 
and that nothing else matters ; but this has not been the 
verdict of moralists generally. Paley, who writes like 
an unblushing egoist, 31 we may pass over; but even 
Kant, a thinker of a very different complexion, appears 
to regard the mere doing of a right act as not a sufficient 
reward for the doer. He looks for the act to be crowned 
with happiness in a life to come, thus saving it from 
being mere self-sacrifice. 

The second question one approaches with some hesi- 
tation. " No moralist," writes Professor Sidgwick, 32 a has 
ever directed an individual to promote the virtue of 
others except in so far as this promotion is compatible 
with, or rather involved in, the complete realization of 
virtue in himself." It appears rash to admit to be a 

30 Ethics, Book IX, chapter viii, § 12. 

31 See § 96. 

32 The Methods oj Ethics, Introduction. 



NATURE, SELF-REALIZATION 263 

duty that which as high an authority as Sidgwick 
maintains no moralist has ever ventured to advise. Still, 
it is permissible to adduce an illustration taken from 
actual life, and to ask the reader to form his opinion 
independently. 

A girl, anxious to provide her younger sister with a 
better lot, enters a factory and gives up her life to labor 
of a monotonous and mind-destroying character, amid 
sordid and more or less degrading surroundings. The 
act is a heroic one, but is it clear that it conduces to 
the self-realization, not of the sister, but of the agent 
herself? The influence of surroundings counts for much. 
High impulses may, under such pressure, come to be 
repressed. 

" Capacity for the nobler feelings," writes Mill, 33 " is 
in most natures a very tender plant, easily killed, not 
only by hostile influences, but by mere want of suste- 
nance; and in the majority of young persons it speedily 
dies away if the occupations to which their position in 
life has devoted them, and the society into which it has 
thrown them, are not favorable to keeping that higher 
capacity in exercise. Men lose their high aspirations 
as they lose their intellectual tastes, because they have 
not time or opportunity for indulging them; and they 
addict themselves to inferior pleasures, not because they 
deliberately prefer them, but because they are either 
the only ones to which they have access, or the only ones 
they are any longer capable of enjoying." 

In other words, one may put oneself into a situation in 
which self-realization appears to be made a most difficult 
and problematic goal. Nor does it seem inconceivable 

33 Utilitarianism, chapter iii. 



264 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

that one should do this for the sake of another's good. 
Hence, even if we restrict the meaning of the word " self- 
sacrifice " to the sacrifice of the " real " or moral self, 
the impossibility of self-sacrifice scarcely appears to have 
been proved; the impossibility of a conflict between the 
ends of the individual and of society does not appear to 
be indubitably established. 

129. Self-sacrifice and the Identity of Selves. — Can 
it be maintained upon any other grounds than those 
adduced above? One line of argument remains open to 
us. We may maintain that, while two bodies are two 
because they occupy two portions of space, two minds, 
as not in space, cannot thus be held apart, and we may 
conclude that " the many individuals composing the race 
are not really many, but one." 34 I suppose that he who 
can take this position will find it natural to argue that 
any act which serves the interests of any self must be 
regarded as serving the interests of every self, and 
thus cannot be considered as sacrificing the interests 
of any self. 

To these trascendental heights, however, comparatively 
few will be able to climb. To men generally it will still 
appear that Peter's love to Paul is not identical with 
Peter's love to Peter; and that Peter may act in such 
a way that, on the whole, he loses, while Paul gains. 
That the interests of Peter and Paul, as developed social 
beings and members of a civilized community, are less 
likely to be in conflict than those of their primitive 
cave-dwelling forerunners may be freely conceded. But 
from such relative harmony to a complete identity of 
interests seems a far cry. 

34 Fite, An Introductory Study of Ethics, chapter xii. 



NATURE, SELF-REALIZATION 265 

130. Questions which Seem to be Left Open. — Evi- 
dently, the self-realization doctrine is a great advance 
upon the doctrine of following nature. The self- 
realizationist realizes that man's nature is in the making, 
and he is not blind to the difficulty of the task of deter- 
mining just what the real demands of human nature are. 

This leads to his laying much stress upon the gradual 
development of systems of rights and duties as they 
emerge under the actual conditions to which human 
societies are subjected in the course of their evolution. 
He reads history with comprehending eyes, and rever- 
ences the human reason as crystallized in social institu- 
tions. Hence, the divergence of the moral standards 
which obtain in different ages and among different peo- 
ples does not seem to him a baffling mystery. He can 
find a relative justification for each, and yet hold to an 
ideal in the light of which each must be judged. 

It may be questioned, however, whether the edifice 
which he erects can be based wholly upon the appeal 
to the self which ostensibly furnishes the groundwork 
of the doctrine. We may ask whether such an appeal 
can: 

(1) Prescribe to the individual in what measure his 
various capacities should be realized. 

(2) Show that it is reasonable to awaken dormant 
capacities, and thus multiply desires. 

(3) Justify social acts which certainly appear to be 
self-sacrificing, and which the moral judgments of men 
generally do not hesitate to approve. 



CHAPTER XXVII 
THE ETHICS OF EVOLUTION 

131. The Significance of the Title. — The title, "The 
Ethics of Evolution," seems to assume that the evolution- 
ist, frankly accepting himself as such, must be prepared 
to join some school of the moralists different from other 
schools, and basing itself upon evolutionary doctrine. 

That the ethical views of individuals and of communi- 
ties of men may undergo a process of evolution or devel- 
opment is palpable. The ethical notions of the child 
are not those of the man, nor are the moral ideas of 
primitive races identical with those of races more ad- 
vanced intellectually and morally. 

But it is one thing to maintain that morals may be in 
evolution in individuals and in communities, and quite 
another to hold that the acceptance of the doctrine of 
evolution, broadly taken, forces upon one some new norm 
by which human actions may be judged. It was possible 
for as ardent an evolutionist as Huxley to hold that evo- 
lution and ethics are not merely independent, but are 
actually at war with one another, the competitive strug- 
gle for existence characteristic of the one giving place in 
the other to a new principle in which the rights of the 
weak and the helpless attain express recognition. 1 And 
Sidgwick, that clearest of thinkers, maintains 2 that we 

1 Huxley, Evolution and Ethics, New York, 1894. See, espe- 
cially, the Prolegomena. 

2 The Methods of Ethics, Book I, chapter vi, § 2. 

266 



THE ETHICS OF EVOLUTION 267 

have no reason to assume that it is our duty as moral 
beings simply to accelerate the pace in the direction 
already marked out by evolution. 

It should be remembered that the word evolution may 
be used equivocally. It is not evident that all evolution 
is in the direction of a life, brute or human, that we 
commonly recognize as higher. There is retrogression, 
as well as progress, where such retrogression is favored 
by environment. We may call this, if we please, devolu- 
tion. Were the conditions of his life very unfavorable, 
man could not live as he now lives; and, indeed, were 
they sufficiently unfavorable — for example, if the earth 
cooled off to a certain point — he could not live at all, 
but would have to give place to a lowlier creature better 
fitted to the conditions. Must the man who foresees 
this end approaching strive to hasten its arrival, or 
should he oppose it? In a decadent society, to come 
nearer to the problems which concern us in ethics, must 
a man strive to realize the social will expressed in pro- 
gressive decadence? Should he hasten the decline of 
the community? 

That those who study man as a moral being, like those 
who study man in any of his other aspects, will be 
more or less influenced in their outlook by the broaden- 
ing of the horizon which results from a study of what the 
students of the evolutionary process have to tell us, may 
be conceded. But when we admit this, we do not neces- 
sarily have to look for a new norm by which to judge 
conduct. We seem, rather, forced to ask ourselves how 
this broadening of the horizon affects the norms which 
have heretofore appealed to men as reasonable. To be 
sure, any evolutionist has, in the capacity of a moralist, 



268 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

the right to suggest a new norm. But, in that case, he 
must, like any other moralist, convince us that it is a 
reasonable one. 

132. Evolution and the Schools of the Moralists. — 
Those who have suggested the norms discussed above, no 
one would think of as greatly influenced in their ethical 
teaching by the doctrine of evolution. Locke, Price, 
Butler and Sidgwick; Aristippus and Epicurus; Paley 
and Hobbes; Bentham and Mill; Epictetus and Marcus 
Aurelius; Janet, Green, and the rest, no one would be 
inclined to class simply as evolutionary moralists. Some 
of them never thought of evolution at all. How would 
it affect their standards of right and wrong were evolu- 
tion expressly taken into account? Would the standards 
have to be abandoned? Or would the men, as broader 
men, merely have to revise some of their moral 
judgments? 

(1) It might be supposed that the acceptance of evo- 
lutionary doctrine would bring into being a grave prob- 
lem for the intuitionist, at least. If the body and mind 
of man are products of evolution, must we not admit 
as much of man's moral intuitions? Then why not 
admit that these may be replaced some day by other 
moral intuitions to be evolved in an unknown future? 

He who reasons thus should bear in mind that Sidgwick, 
who by no means repudiated the doctrine of evolution, 
was an intuitionist, and placed his ultimate moral intu- 
itions on a par with such mathematical intuitions as that 
two and two make four. If all intuitions are a product 
of evolution, Sidgwick might claim that the moral 
intuitions he accepts fare no worse than those elementary 
mathematical truths which we accept without question 



THE ETHICS OF EVOLUTION 269 

and without reflection. And he might maintain that 
an appeal to evolution need cast no greater doubt upon 
ultimate moral truth than upon mathematical. If intu- 
itionism in all its forms is to be rejected, it seems as 
though it must be done upon some other ground than 
an appeal to evolution. 

(2) As to the egoist. It is not easy to see how the ap- 
peal to evolution need disconcert him. Should he be so 
foolish as to maintain that egoism is always, in fact, nec- 
essary and unavoidable on the part of every living crea- 
ture, he might easily be refuted by a reference to the 
actual life of the brutes, where altruism can be shown to 
play no insignificant role. But if he simply maintains 
that the only reasonable principle for a man to adopt is 
egoism, he may continue to do so. He makes the self 
and its satisfactions his end. How can it concern him 
to learn how the self came to be what it is, or what 
it will be in the distant future? He panders to the 
present self ; he may assume that it will be reasonable to 
pander at the appropriate time to the self that is to be, 
whatever its nature. 

(3) The utilitarian remains such whether he makes 
the greatest good of the greatest number to consist in 
pleasure or in some other end, such as self-preservation. 
Some utilitarians, who have been inclined to emphasize 
the good of man, rather than to extend even to the 
brutes the goods to be distributed, may be influenced to 
extend the sphere of duties, if they will listen to the 
evolutionist, who cannot well leave out of view humbler 
creatures. 3 

3 " Thus we shall not go wrong in attributing to the higher 
animals in their simple social life, not only the elementary 



270 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

He may broaden his sympathies. But this need not 
compel him to abandon his fundamental doctrine. 

(4) A very similar conclusion may be drawn, when we 
consider the influence of an acceptance of the doctrine 
of evolution upon those who would turn to man's nature, 
to perfection, or to self-realization, as furnishing the 
norm of human conduct. 

A Marcus Aurelius could, with little reference to evolu- 
tion, accept man's nature, or Nature in the wider sense, 
as marking out for man the round of his duties. A 
modern Darwinian might fall back upon much the 
same standard, while clearly conscious of the fact that 
man's nature is not something unchangeable, and while 
inclined to view Nature in general with different eyes 
from those of the Roman Stoic. No sensible evolutionist 
would maintain that a creature of a given species should 
act in defiance of all the instincts of creatures of that 
type, merely on the ground that species may be involved 
in a process of progressive development. 

Nor need the perfectionist abandon his perfectionism 
in view of any such consideration. He who measures 
perfection by the degree of activity exercised in action, 
may admit that the coming man will be more perfect 
than it is possible for any man to be now; but that 
need not prevent him from holding that it is man's 
present duty to aim at the only perfection possible to 
him, he being what he is. Similar reasoning will 
apply to any other conception of perfection likely to 



feelings, the loves and hates, sympathies and jealousies which 
underlie all forms of society, but also in a rudimentary stage 
the intelligence which enables those feelings to direct the oper- 
ations of the animal so as best to gratify them." Hobhouse, 
Ethics in Evolution, chapter i, § 4. 



THE ETHICS OF EVOLUTION 271 

be adopted, consciously or unconsciously, by any ad- 
herent of the school in question. 

As for the self-realizationist, a very little reflection 
seems sufficient to reveal that the maxim that it is 
man's duty to become all that it is in him to become 
is in no wise refuted by the claim that man may, in 
the indefinitely distant future, become much more than 
many people have supposed or now suppose. 

(5) There remains the doctrine of the Rational Social 
Will as furnishing the norm of conduct. I have tried to 
show that this doctrine must rest upon broad views of 
man and of man's environment. It is the very essence 
of the rational will to take broad views, to con- 
sider the past, the present, and the future. Surely the 
adherent of this school may let the evolutionist work in 
peace, may thank him for any helpful suggestions he 
has to offer, and may develop his own doctrine with 
little cause for uneasiness at the thought that informa- 
tion given him may refute his fundamental principle. 

However, it is not out of place for him to point out, 
if revolutionary measures of any sort are suggested by 
this or that evolutionist, that ethics is a discipline which 
is concerned with what men have to do, here and now. 
It must take into consideration what is advisable and 
feasible. Utopian schemes which break violently with 
the actual order of things and the normal development 
of human societies may be suggested by evolution- 
ists, as they have been suggested by men who 
were not evolutionists at all. They are not to be taken 
much more seriously in the one case than in the other. 

133. The Ethics of Individual Evolutionists. — Such 
considerations seem to make it evident that the accept- 



272 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

ance of the doctrine of evolution should have no other 
influence upon us as moralists than that of making us 
take broad views of man and of his environment. It 
still remains to find a norm of conduct, and evolutionists, 
like other men, may develop ethical systems which are 
not identical. It is worth while here to touch very briefly 
upon the suggestions of one or two individual evolution- 
ists. Those who speak of the ethics of evolution are very 
apt to have such in mind. 

Thus, Darwin, whose study of the lower animals led 
him to believe that the social instincts have been devel- 
oped for the general good rather than for the general 
happiness of the species, defines the " good " as " the rear- 
ing of the greatest number of individuals in full vigor and 
health, with all their faculties perfect, under the con- 
ditions to which they have been subjected." The 
" greatest happiness principle " he regards as an import- 
ant secondary guide to conduct, while making social 
instinct and sympathy primary guides. 4 

Spencer maintains that the evolution of conduct be- 
comes the highest possible when the conduct " simul- 
taneously achieves the greatest totality of life in self, in 
offspring, and in fellow-men." " The conduct called 
good," he writes, * rises to the conduct conceived as 
best, when it fulfills all three classes of ends at the same 
time." But life he does not regard as necessarily a 
good. He judges it to be good or bad " according as 
it has or has not a surplus of agreeable feeling." Hence, 
" conduct is good or bad according as its total effects 
are pleasurable or painful." 5 

4 The Descent of Man, chapter iv, concluding remarks. 

5 The Data oj Ethics, chapter iii, § § 8 and 10. 



THE ETHICS OF EVOLUTION 273 

To be sure, Spencer criticises the utilitarians, and 
thinks little of the Benthamic calculus of pleasures. He 
believes that we should substitute for it something more 
scientific, a study of the processes of life. In his earlier 
writings he appears to be largely in accord with the in- 
tuitionists in judging of conduct, regarding intuitions 
as having their origin in the experiences of the race. 
Nor does he ever seem inclined to break with intuition- 
ism completely. But, as we have seen above (§108), 
there appears to be nothing to prevent a utilitarian from 
being an intuitionist of some sort, as well. 

Stephen, in his clear and beautifully written work on 
morals, also accepts the general happiness as the ulti- 
mate end of reasonable conduct; and he, too, criticizes 
the current utilitarianism. He writes: " This, as it seems 
to me, represents the real difference between the util- 
itarian and the evolutionist criterion. The one lays 
down as a criterion the happiness, the other the health 
of society." 6 By which, of course, he does not mean 
merely physical health, but such a condition of vigor 
and efficiency as carries with it a promise of continued 
existence and well-being in the future. 

It is not necessary to multiply instances. It can read- 
ily be seen that all three of the w r riters cited are utili- 
tarians, and the last two are what have been character- 
ized as hedonistic utilitarians. That they suggest this 
or that means of best attaining to the desired goal does 
not put them outside of a school which embraces men 
of many shades of opinion. 

6 The Science of Ethics, London, 1882, chapter ix, § 12. 



CHAPTER XXVIII 
PESSIMISM 

134. The Philosophy of the Pessimist. — With phi- 
losophy in general this volume has little to do; but as 
pessimism is not the doctrine of normal men generally, 
but is apt to be identified in our minds with the teachings 
of certain of its leading exponents, it may be well to 
give, in briefest outline, the type of reasonings upon 
which the pessimist may take his stand. 

Schopenhauer held that the one World-Will, which 
manifests itself in all nature, inorganic and organic, and 
is identical with the will of which each man is conscious 
in himself, is a " will to live." When the World-Will 
becomes conscious, as it does in man, the will to live is 
consciously asserted. But the will to live is essentially 
blind and unreasoning, or it would not do anything so 
stupid as to will life of any sort. He writes: 

" Only a blind will, no seeing will, could place itself 
in the position in which we behold ourselves. A seeing 
will would rather have soon made the calculation that 
the business did not cover the cost; for such a mighty 
effort and struggle, with the straining of all the powers, 
under constant care, anxiety and want, and with the 
inevitable destruction of every individual life, finds no 
compensation in the ephemeral existence itself, which is 
so obtained, and which passes into nothing in our hands." 1 

1 The World as Will and Idea, translated by Haldane and 
Kemp, London, 1896. On the Vanity and Suffering of Life. Vol- 
ume III, p. 390. 

274 



PESSIMISM 275 

The basis of all will, says Schopenhauer, is need, 
deficiency, and, hence, pain. He dwells at length upon 
the misery of life, and the desirability of a release from 
life. The refuge of suicide at once suggests itself, but 
is rejected by Schopenhauer on the ground that the 
destruction of the individual cannot prevent the One 
Will from manifesting itself in other individuals. Curi- 
ously enough he appears to approve of suicide by star- 
vation, as indicating a renunciation of the will to live. 
But his general recommendation is asceticism, renunci- 
ation of the striving for pleasure, the voluntary accept- 
ance of pain. Through this the Will is to be taught to 
apprehend its own nature, and, thus, to deny itself. 
How a general asceticism on our part will rob the one 
universal Will, revealed in the mineral, vegetable and 
animal worlds, of its nature, and still its strivings, the 
great pessimist does not indicate. 

At this point, von Hartmann, who may fairly be 
called Schopenhauer's pupil, takes up the tale. He sug- 
gests that it is conceivable that a universal negation of 
the will may be obtained, if the preponderating part of 
the actual World- Will should come to be contained in 
the conscious minds that resolve to will no more. This 
he thinks may neutralize the whole, and put an end to 
existence, which is unavoidably an evil, and implies 
a preponderance of pain. 2 

135. Comment on the Ethics of Pessimism. — On the 

metaphysics of the pessimists I shall make no comment 

save that there appears to be here sufficient vagueness 

to satisfy the most poetical of minds. But the following 

points in the ethics of pessimism should be noted : 

2 Philosophy of the Unconscious, " Metaphysic of the Uncon- 
scious," chapter xiv. 



276 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

(1) Pleasure and pain are made the measure of the 
desirability or undesirability of existence. 

(2) It is assumed that pleasure and pain are meas- 
urable; und that they may be quantitatively balanced 
against one another in such a way that this or that 
mixture of them may be declared by an enlightened 
man to be, on the whole, desirable or the reverse. 

(3) It is claimed that the balance must necessarily 
incline to the side of pain, and hence, that life is not 
worth living. 

(4) It follows from all this that it is our duty to 
aim, not necessarily directly, but in some manner, at 
least, at the destruction of life everywhere. 

(5) I beg the reader to observe that the above doc- 
trine rests upon assumptions which seem to be made 
without due consideration. Thus: 

(a) It is by no means to be assumed without question 
that pleasure and pain alone are the measure of the 
desirable. They are not the only things actually desired ; 
and, if we assert that they alone are desirable, we fall 
back upon a dubious intuition. 

(6) The quantitative relations of pleasures and pains 
are legitimate subjects of dispute, as we have seen in 
earlier chapters in this volume. When is one pleasure 
twice as great as another? How can we know that 
three pleasures counterbalance a pain? Is it by the 
mere fact that we will as we do, in a given instance? 
Then how prove that we will as we do, because of the 
equivalence of the pleasure to the pain? 

(c) Who shall decide for us whether life is — not de- 
sired, it is admittedly that, as a rule, — but, also, 
desirable? 



PESSIMISM 277 

May the man who denies it rest his assertion upon 
such general considerations as that satisfaction pre- 
supposes desire, and that desire implies a lack, and, 
hence, pain? The famous author of " Utopia " pointed 
out long ago that the pains of hunger begin before the 
pleasure of eating, and only die when it does. Shall 
we, then, regard a hearty appetite as a curse, to be 
mitigated but not wholly neutralized by a series of 
good dinners? 

To be sure, the pessimists do not depend wholly upon 
such general arguments, but point out in great detail 
that there is much suffering in the world, and that the 
fulfillment of desire, when it is attained, often results 
in disillusionment. But the fact remains that life, such 
as it is, is desired by men and other creatures generally; 
desired not as an exception, and under a misappre- 
hension, but, as a rule, even by the enlightened and 
the far-seeing. 

Is not the desirable what is desired by the rational 
will? We have seen that the rational social will does 
not aim at the suppression of desires generally, but only 
at the suppression of such desires as interfere with 
broader satisfactions. Viewed from this stand-point, 
the pessimist's " denial of the will to live " appears as 
an expression of the accidental or irrational will. It is 
not an expression of the nature of man, but of the 
nature of the pessimist. 

(6) It is, perhaps, worth while to point out that there 
is nothing to prevent a given pessimist from being an 
intuitionist, an egoist, a utilitarian (of a sort), or an 
adherent of one of the other schools above discussed. 
He may assume intuitively that life is undesirable; in 



278 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

view of its undesirability he may act, either taking 
himself alone into consideration, or including his 
neighbor; he may invoke the doctrine of evolution; he 
may even, if he chooses, call it self-realization to anni- 
hilate himself, for he may argue that a will that comes 
to clear consciousness must see that it must be its own 
undoing. It is hardly necessary to point out, however, 
that the pessimist, as such, should not be in any wise 
confounded with the moralists discussed in the five 
chapters preceding. 



CHAPTER XXIX 
KANT, HEGEL AND NIETZSCHE 

136. Kant. — It is impossible, in any brief compass, 
to treat of the many individual moralists, some of them 
men of genius and well worthy of our study, who offer 
us ethical systems characterized by differences of more 
or less importance. When we refer a man to this or 
that school and do no more, we say comparatively little 
about him, as has become evident in the preceding chap- 
ters. As we have seen, it has been necessary to class 
together those who differ rather widely in many of their 
opinions. Here, I shall devote a few pages to three men 
only, partly because of their prominence, and partly 
because it is instructive to call attention to the contrast 
between them in their fundamental positions. I shall 
begin with Kant. 

Kant held that the human reason issues " categorial 
imperatives," that is to say, unconditional commands to 
act in certain ways. The motive for moral action must 
not be the desire for pleasure, but solely the desire to do 
right. 

He makes his fundamental rule abstract and formal: 
" So act that you could wish your maxim to be universal 
law." As no man could wish to be himself neglected 
when in distress, this law compels him to be benevolent, 
and a new form of the fundamental rule is developed: 

279 



280 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

" Treat humanity, in yourself or any other, as an end 
always, and never as a means. 1 

Now Kant, although he maintains that it is not a 
man's duty to seek his own happiness — a thing which 
natural inclination would prompt him to do — by no 
means overlooks happiness altogether. He thinks that 
virtue and happiness together constitute the whole and 
perfect good desired by rational beings. The attainment 
of this good must be the supreme end of a will morally 
determined. 2 We are morally bound to strive to be 
virtuous ourselves and to make others happy. 

Still, each man's happiness means much to him; and 
Kant, convinced that virtue ought to be rewarded with 
happiness, holds that our world is a moral world, where 
God will reward the virtuous. If we do not assume 
such a world, he claims, moral laws are reduced to idle 
dreams. 3 

Such utterances as the last may well lead the utili- 
tarian to question whether Kant was quite whole-hearted 
in his doctrine of the unconditional commands of the 
practical reason of man. They appear to be not inde- 
pendent of all consideration of human happiness. 

I shall not ask whether Kant was consistent. Great 
men, like lesser men, seldom are. But, in order that 
the contrast between his doctrine and those of the two 
writers whom I shall next discuss may be brought out 
clearly, I shall ask that the following points be kept 
well in mind: 

(1) Kant was an out-and-out intuitionist. He goes 

1 Fundamental Principles of the Metaphysic of Morals, § 2. 

2 Dialectic of the Pure Practical Reason, chapter ii. 

3 Ibid. 



KANT, HEGEL AND NIETZSCHE 281 

directly to the practical reason of man for an enunciation 
of the moral law. 

(2) Moral rules of lesser generality, such as those 
touching benevolence, justice and veracity, he traces 
to the practical reason, making them independent of 
all considerations of expediency. Thus he defends the 
body of moral truth accepted by so many of his 
fellow-moralists. 

(3) His " practical reason " speaks directly to the 
individual. Kant looked within, not without. We may 
call him an ethical individualist. Socrates, when on 
trial for his life, listened for the voice of the divinity 
within him. He needed no other. 

137. Hegel. — In strongest contrast to the individu- 
alism of Kant stands the doctrine of Hegel. To the 
latter, duty consists in the realization of the free reason- 
able will — but this will is identical in all individuals, 4 
and its realization reveals itself in the customs, laws 
and institutions of the state. From this point of view 
the individual is an accidental thing; the ethical order 
revealed in society is permanent, and has absolute 
authority. It is true, however, that it is not something 
foreign to the individual ; he is conscious of it as his own 
being. In duty he finds his liberation. 5 

But what is a man's duty? " What a man ought 
to do," says Hegel, 6 " what duties he should fulfill in 
order to be virtuous, is in an ethical community easy 
to say — the man has only to do what is presented, 
expressed and recognized in the established relations in 
which he finds himself." 

4 The Philosophy of Right, § 209. 

5 Ibid., § § 145-149. 

6 Ibid., § 150. 



282 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

In other words, he ought to do just what his com- 
munity prescribes! This seems, taken quite literally, a 
startling doctrine. 

It would be a wrong to Hegel to take him quite 
literally, for he elsewhere 7 makes it plain that he by 
no means approves of all the laws and customs that 
have obtained in various societies. Still, he exalts the 
law of the state and regards any opposition to it on 
the authority of private conviction as " stupendous pre- 
sumption." 8 This is a serious rebuke to the reformer. 
The individual must, according to Hegel, look for the 
moral law outside of himself — of himself as an indi- 
vidual, at least. He must find it in the State. 

138. Nietzsche. — Again a startling contrast: after 
Hegel, Nietzsche — the voice of one crying in the wilder- 
ness, exquisitely, passionately, but scarcely with arti- 
culate scientific utterance. A prophet of revolt and 
emancipation; a cave-dweller, who would flee organized 
society and the refinements of civilization; the rabid 
individualist, to whom the community is the " herd," 
and common notions of right and wrong are absurdities 
to be visited with scorn and denunciation. He makes a 
strong appeal to young men, even after the years during 
which the carrying of one's own latch-key is a source 
of elation. He appeals also to those perennially young 
persons who never attain to the stature which befits 
those who are to take a responsible share in the organ- 
ized efforts of communities of men. 

With Nietzsche the man, his suffering life, and the 
melancholy eclipse of his brilliant intellect, ethics as 

7 Ibid., Introduction. 

8 Op. cit., § 138. 



KANT, HEGEL AND NIETZSCHE 283 

science is little concerned. In Nietzsche the marvellous 
literary artist it can have no interest. These things 
are the affair of literature and biography. 

Here we are concerned only with his contribution to 
ethics. Just what that has been it is more difficult to 
determine than would be the case in a writer more 
systematic and scientific. But he makes it very clear 
that he repudiates the morals which have been accepted 
heretofore by moralists and communities of men 
generally. 

He confesses himself an " immoralist." He despises 
man as he is, and hails the " Superman," a creature 
inspired by the " will to have power," and free from all 
moral prejudices, including that of sympathy with the 
weak and the helpless. 

" Full is the world of the superfluous," he sings in 
his famous dithyramb, 9 " marred is life by the many -too- 
many." . . . " Many too many are born; for the super- 
fluous ones was the State devised." ..." There, where 
the State ceaseth — there only commenceth the man who 
is not superfluous." 

Man, says Nietzsche, should regard himself as a 
" bridge " over which he can pass to something higher. 10 
Upon the fact that the Superman may have the same 
reason for regarding himself as a " bridge " as the most 
commonplace of mortals, and may begin anew with 
loathing and self-contempt, he does not dwell. Yet, as 
long as progress is possible, man may always be regarded 

9 Thus Spake Zarathustra, I, xi. It is a pity to read Nietzsche 
in any translation. His diction is exquisite. But those 
who can only read him in English may be referred to the 
translations of his works edited by Levy. New York, 1911. 

10 Ibid., Prologue, and I, IV, XI, et passim. 



284 THE SCHOOLS OF THE MORALISTS 

as a " bridge." The reader of Nietzsche is tempted to 
believe that hatred and contempt must always be the 
predominant emotions in the mind of the " superior " 
man. Darwin, who knew much more about man and 
nature than did our passionate poet, was still able to 
regard man as " the crown and glory of the universe." 
Not so, Nietzsche. 

Those who have read little in ethics are inclined to 
attribute to Nietzsche a greater measure of originality 
than he can reasonably claim. More than two milleniums 
before him, Plato conceived an ideal Republic in which 
moral laws, as commonly accepted, were to be set aside. 
Marriage was to be done away with; births were to be 
scientifically regulated; children were to be taken from 
their mothers; sickly infants were to be destroyed. In 
Sparta the committee of the elders did not permit the 
promptings of sympathy and the cries of wounded ma- 
ternal love to influence the decision touching the life or 
death of the new-born. 

Here was an attempt at bridge-building, but it was 
conceived as a scientific matter, to be taken in hand 
by the State, and for the good of the State. But 
Nietzsche would destroy the State. His Superman 
appears as individualistic as a " rogue " elephant, a few 
passages to the contrary notwithstanding. Are we to 
regard him as a mere lawless egoist, or as something 
more? We are left in the dark. 11 But we note that 
Nietzsche disagrees with most moralists, in that he 
refuses to regard Caesar Borgia as a morbid growth. 12 

11 See the volume, Beyond Good and Evil, " What is Noble?" 
§265. 

12 Ibid., The Natural History of Morals, § 197. Dostoieff- 
sky's genius has portrayed for us an admirable Superman in 



KANT, HEGEL AND NIETZSCHE 285 

The Superman has always been with us, in somewhat 
varying types. From Alexander the Great to Napoleon, 
and before and after, he adorns the pages of history. 
Attila, among others, may enter his claim to considera- 
tion. It remains for the serious student of ethics to 
estimate scientifically his value as an ethical ideal, and 
to judge how far this type of character may profitably 
be taken as a pattern. 

Nietzsche stands at the farthest possible remove from 
Hegel. Does he, as an individualist, stand within hail 
of Kant? It scarcely seems so. When we examine 
Kant's " practical reason," in other words, the moral 
law as it revealed itself to Kant, we find that it had taken 
up into itself the moral development of the ages pre- 
ceding. Kant's practical reason, his conscience, to speak 
plain English, was not the practical reason of, for ex- 
ample, Aristotle. The latter could speak of a slave as 
an " animated tool," and could believe there were men 
intended by nature for slavery. Kant could not. In 
theory an individualist, the Sage of Kdnigsberg stands, 
in reality, not far from Hegel. He does not break with 
the past. But Nietzsche is revolt incarnate. 



the person of the Russian convict Orloff. See his House oj the 
Dead, chapter v. 



PART VIII 
THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 



CHAPTER XXX 
ASPECTS OF THE ETHICS OF REASON 

139. The Doctrine Supported by the Other Schools. — 

I urge the more confidently the Ethics of Reason, or 
the Ethics of the Rational Social Will, because there 
is so little in it that is really new. It only makes 
articulate what we all know already, and strives to get 
rid of certain exaggerations into which many men who 
reason, and who reason well, have unwittingly fallen. 

The fundamentals of the doctrine have been exhibited 
in Parts V and VI of this volume, and the exaggerations 
alluded to have been treated in Part VII. Hence, I 
may speak very briefly in indicating how the Ethics of 
Reason finds a many-sided support in schools which 
appear, on the surface, to be in the opposition. 

It is evident, to begin with, that the Ethics of the 
Social Will cannot dispense with Moral Intuitions, but 
must regard them as indispensable; as, indeed, the very 
foundation of the moral life. That the individual may, 
and if he is properly equipped for the task, ought, to 
examine critically his own moral intuitions and those of 
the community in which he finds himself, and should, 
with becoming modesty and hesitation, now and then 
suggest an innovation, means no more than that he and 
the community are not dead, but are living, and that 
progress is a possibility, at least. 

289 



290 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

As for the Egoist, unless he is an absurd extremist, 
we must admit that he says much that is worth listening 
to. Was not Bentham quite right in maintaining that 
if all A's interests were committed to B, and all B's to 
A, the world would get on very badly? A charity that 
begins at the planet Mars would arrive nowhere. The 
Ethics of Reason has room for a very careful considera- 
tion of the interests of the self. But it may object to 
the position that the moral mathematician may regard 
as the only important number the number One. 

With the Utilitarian our doctrine need have, as we 
have seen, no quarrel. Did not that learned, en- 
lightened, and most fair-minded of utilitarians, Sidgwick, 
ultimately resolve the happiness which men seek into 
anything which may be the object of the mind in willing? 
Did not a critical utilitarianism resolve itself into the 
doctrine of the Rational Social Will? Why take less 
critical utilitarians as the only exponents of the school? 
Besides, is there any reason why the social will should 
be blind to the fact that men generally do desire to gain 
pleasure and to avoid pain? It is only the exaggeration 
of this truth that we need to combat. 

To Nature, properly understood, we can enter no 
objection. Who objects to Perfection as a " counsel of 
perfection? " Can the Social Will object to a man's 
striving to Realize his Capacities — under proper control, 
and with a regard to others? The Pessimist is an un- 
healthy creature, and the Social Will represents normal 
and healthy humanity. Here we have disparity. But 
to Evolution our doctrine offers no opposition. It is only 
by a process of development that the Actual Social Will 
has come to be what it is ; and the Rational Social Will 



ASPECTS OF ETHICS OF REASON 291 

looks to a further development under the guidance of 
reason. 

The fact is that thoughtful men belonging to different 
schools tend to introduce into their statement of their 
doctrines modifying clauses; and in the end we find them 
not as far apart as they seemed at the beginning. The 
tendency is, I think, in the direction of the recognition 
of the Rational Social Will. This doctrine belongs to 
nobody in particular; it is the common property of us 
all. It contains little that is startling. 

140. Its Method of Approach to Problems. — He who 
looks to the Rational Social Will for guidance is given 
a compass which may be of no small service to him. 
For example: 

(1) He will see that moral phenomena are not to be 
isolated. He will accept the historic order of society 
and judge man and his emotions and actions in the light 
of it. He will never feel tempted to say, with Bentham, 
that the pleasure which has its roots in malice, envy, 
cruelty, " taken by itself, is good." x 

He will simply say, it is pleasure. That it is, of 
course ; but he will maintain that nothing " taken by 
itself " is either good or bad, from the moralist's point 
of view. The cruel man may will to see suffering, and 
may enjoy it. The moral man may hold that the cruel 
man, his act of will, and his pleasure, should all be 
snuffed out, in the interest of humanity, as an unmiti- 
gated evil. 

(2) The advocate of the Rational Social Will recog- 
nizes, as do many adherents of other schools, that the 
social will, as expressed at any given time, is only rel- 

1 Principles of Morals and Legislation, chapter x, § 10, note. 



292 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

atively rational; that men must live in their own day 
and generation, although they can, to some degree, reach 
beyond them; and that some differences of opinion as to 
the relative values of virtues, and the goodness of char- 
acters, are to be expected. 

(3) Furthermore, he is in a position to explain how 
a man may be " subjectively " right and yet "object- 
ively " wrong. The man's character may be such that 
it is, on the whole, to be approved by the Rational Social 
Will. He may be animated by the desire to adjust him- 
self to that will. And yet, the accident of ignorance, 
the accident of prejudice not recognized by himself as 
such, may lead him to do what he thinks right and what 
those more enlightened recognize to be wrong. 

141. Its Solution of Certain Difficulties. — Perhaps it 
would be better for me to give this section a heading 
more nearly like the last. I aim only to give the reader 
a point of view from which he can approach the problem 
of a solution. 

Take the problem which has come up before in 
the form of the distribution of pleasures. 2 He who 
dwells, not so much upon pleasure, as upon the satis- 
faction of desire and will, must state it differently, but 
the problem is much the same. What degree of recog- 
nition should be given to the will of each individual, or 
to the separate volitions and desires in the life of the 
individual? Should everybody count for one? Should 
every desire or group of desires receive recognition? 
Is no distinction to be made in the intensity of desires? 
And how many individuals shall we include in our 
reckoning? 

2 See § 109. 



ASPECTS OF ETHICS OF REASON 293 

Light seems to be shed upon this complicated problem 
or set of problems when we hold clearly before ourselves 
what the task of reason is in regulating the life of man 
individually and collectively. Its function is to bring 
order out of chaos and strife; to substitute harmony 
and planfulness for accident; to introduce long views 
in the place of momentary impulses; to prevent the 
barter of permanent good for a mess of pottage. 

Reason must accept the impulses and instincts of 
man as it finds them, and do what it can with them. It 
cannot ignore them. Slowly, civilizations, to some de- 
gree rational, have come into being. In so far as they 
are rational, they are justified. Keeping all this in view 
we may say, tentatively: 

(a) The principle, " everybody to count for one, and 
nobody for more than one," must be interpreted as an 
expression of the conviction that no will should be 
needlessly sacrificed. 

Reason is bodiless, except as incorporated in human 
societies, and these must have their historic development. 
Can we do away with the special claims of family, of 
neighborhood, of the state? They have their place in 
the historic rational order. But the whispered " every- 
body to count for one " may help us to realize that such 
special claims cannot take the place of all others. 

(b) Shall a deliberate attempt be made to enlarge 
the circle of those who are to share in the social will, 
not merely by diminishing the number of deaths, but 
by promoting the number of births? States have at- 
tempted it often enough. I can only say that, if this 
be attempted, it should not be attempted in ways that 
ignore the historical development of society, with its 
social and moral traditions. 



294 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

(c) Why not justify our attitude toward the brutes 
by maintaining that they have, theoretically, rights to 
recognition, in so far as such recognition does not inter- 
fere with the rights of man in the rational social order? 
The brutes outnumber us, to be sure. We are in a 
hopeless minority. But were this minority sacrificed, 
there would be no rational social order at all — no right, 
no wrong; nothing but the clash of wills or impulses 
which reason now strives to harmonize as it can. 3 

{d) When we turn to the problem of the distribution 
of satisfactions in the life of the individual, we find 
ready to hand a variety of unwise saws — "A short life 
and a merry one," and the like. 

How should the individual choose his satisfactions? 
Merely from the standpoint of the individual? What 
is desirable? Not desired, by this man or by that, but 
desirable, reasonable? 

It is an open secret that the house of mirth lacks every 
convenience demanded of a permanent residence, and 
that those who breathlessly pursue pleasure are seldom 
pleased. Nor do men, when they stop to think, want 
their lives to be very short. 

And, in any case, this question of the distribution of 
satisfactions in the life of the individual does not concern 
the individual alone. Is the man who wants a short life 
and a merry one an " undesirable " from the stand- 
point of the Rational Social Will? Then he should be 
suppressed. The manner of distribution of even his own 
personal satisfactions is not his affair exclusively. Every 
ordered society has its notions touching the type of man 
which suits its ends. 

3 See chapter xxi, § 86. 



ASPECTS OF ETHICS OF REASON 295 

(e) But shall we, in making up our minds about the 
" satisfaction on the whole " which busies the rational 
individual or the rational community, take no account 
at all of the intensity of pleasures and of pains, the 
eagerness with which some things are desired and the 
feebleness of the impulsion toward others? May not the 
intense thrill of a moment more than counterbalance 
" four lukewarm hours? " Are we not, if we take such 
things into consideration, back again face to face with 
something very like the calculus of pleasures — that 
bugbear of the egoist and of the utilitarian? 

It would be foolish to maintain that man, either indi- 
vidually or collectively, places all desires upon the same 
level. No man of sense holds that every desire should 
count as one. On the other hand, no man of sense pre- 
tends to have any accurate unit of measurement by which 
he can make unerring estimates of desirability. 

Fortunately, he is not compelled to fall back upon 
such a unit. Even if he was born yesterday, the race 
was not. He is born into a system of values expressed 
in social organization and social institutions. It is the 
resultant of innumerable expressions of preference on the 
part of innumerable men. It is a general guide to what, 
on the whole, man wants. 

It is, then, foolish for him to raise such questions as, 
whether it is not better to aim at intense happiness on 
the part of the few, to the utter ignoring of the mass of 
mankind. Such questions the Rational Social Will has 
already answered in the negative. 

142. The Cultivation of our Capacities. — Finally, we 
may approach the question whether it is reasonable to 
awake dormant desires, to call into being new needs; 



296 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

which, satisfied, may be recognized as a good, but which, 
unsatisfied, may result in unhappiness. 4 

A little cup may be filled with what leaves a big one 
half empty. It is easy to find grounds upon which to 
congratulate the " average " man. All the world caters 
to him — ready-made clothing is measured to fit his 
figure, and it is sold cheap; the average restaurant con- 
sults his taste and his pocket; the average woman just 
suits him as a help-mate; he is much at home with his 
neighbors, most of whom diverge little from the average. 
Why strive to rise above the average — and fall into a 
divine discontent? 

May one not say much the same of a community? 
Why should it strive to attain to new conquests, to 
awaken in its members new wants and strain to satisfy 
them? Does it seem self-evident that it is reasonable, 
in general, to multiply desires with no guarantee of 
their satisfaction? 

I know no way of approaching the solution of this 
problem save from the standpoint of the Rational Social 
Will. W"e are confronted with the general problem of 
the desirability of civilization, with all that that implies. 
The life of man in some rather primitive societies has 
seemed in certain respects rather idyllic. The eating of 
the fruit of the tree, and the consequent opening of the 
eyes, has, time and again, seemed to result in disaster. 

But was the idyllic life not an accidental thing, due 
to a fortuitous combination of circumstances, rather than 
to man's intelligent control of a larger environment? 
Civilization of some sort seems inevitable. Have we 
any other guarantee that we can make it, in the long 

4 Compare chapter xxi, § 86. 



ASPECTS OF ETHICS OF REASON 297 

run, rational, than a many-sided development of man's 
capacities? And must we not exercise a broad faith in 
the value of enlightenment, increase of knowledge, far- 
sightedness, the cultivation of complex emotions, even 
at the risk of some waste of effort and some suffering 
to certain individuals? 

Perhaps this is as good a place as any to say a word 
about the significance of the terms " higher " and 
•' lower," when used in a moral sense. We have seen 
that John Stuart Mill made much of the distinction in 
his utilitarianism. Bentham appears to sin against the 
enlightened moral judgment in holding that, quantities 
of pleasure being the same, " push-pin is as good as 
poetry." 

When we realize that the worth of things may be 
determined from the standpoint of the Rational Social 
Will, we can easily understand that some occupations 
and their accompanying pleasures should be rated higher 
than others, however satisfactory the latter may seem 
to certain individuals. It is not unreasonable to rate 
the pleasure of scientific discovery as higher than the 
pleasure of swallowing an oyster; and that, without 
following Bentham in falling back upon a quantitative 
standard, or following Mill in maintaining that pleasures, 
as pleasures, differ in kind. 5 

5 See chapter xxv, § 107. 



CHAPTER XXXI 
THE MORAL LAW AND MORAL IDEALS 

143. Duties and Virtues. — We saw, at the very be- 
ginning of this volume, 1 that a single moral law, so 
abstractly stated as to cover the whole sphere of con- 
duct, must be something so vague and indeterminate as 
to be practically useless as a guide to action. The ad- 
monition, " do right," does not mean anything in par- 
ticular to the man who is not already well instructed as 
to what, in detail, constitutes right action. Nor do we 
make ourselves more intelligible, when we say to him 
" be good." 

It seems to mean something more when we say " act 
justly," or " be just "; " speak the truth," or " be truth- 
ful." And the more we particularize, the more we help 
the individual confronted with concrete problems — the 
only problems with which life actually confronts us. 

This is as it should be. Duties and virtues are ex- 
pressions of the Rational Social Will, and that will is a 
mere abstraction except as it is incorporated, with a 
wealth of detail, in human societies. It would be hard 
for the small boy to classify, under any ten command- 
ments, the innumerable company of the " don'ts " which 
he hears from his mother during the course of a week. 
He can leave such work to the moralist. But he is 
receiving an education in the moral law, as an expression 
of the social will, through the whole seven days. 

i Chapter i, §2. 
298 



MORAL LAW AND IDEALS 299 

If we wish, we can emphasize the moral law, and dwell 
upon the duties of man. On the other hand, we may 
lay stress upon the virtues, and point to ideals. The 
Greek made much of the virtues; the Christian moralist 
had more to say of man's duties. In the end, there need 
be little discrepancy in the results. I make the same 
recommendation, whether I say to a man, Speak the 
truth! or whether I say to him, Be truthful! 

It may be claimed that shades of difference make 
themselves apparent, where one emphasizes the law and 
another points to an ideal. Perhaps they do, in most 
minds. It certainly sounds more conceited to say: "I 
am trying to be virtuous," than to say: " I am trying to 
do my duty." On the other hand, the admonition, " Be 
truthful/' appears to leave one a little latitude. We 
take the truthful man, so to speak, in the lump. If he 
has a strong bias toward truth-speaking, and is felt to 
be reliable, on the whole, it is not certain that we should 
rob him of his title on the ground of one or two lapses for 
which weighty reasons could be urged. The admonition: 
"Speak the truth!" seems more uncompromising; and 
yet he who prefers this legal form may maintain that 
it is a general admonition addressed to men of sense who 
are supposed to be able to exercise reason. 

144. The Negative Aspect of the Moral Law. — Why 
does the Moral Law, on the surface at least, appear to 
be so largely negative? As we look back upon our early 
youth, our days appear to be punctuated with punish- 
ments. When we attain to years of discretion, this is 
not the case, with most of us, at least. 

But when we turn to the law, in our own society or 
in others, we find prohibitions and penalties everywhere. 



300 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

Of rewards little is said. Is the social will meant to be 
chiefly inhibitory? Is it a check to the action of the 
individual? 

(1) The negative aspect of the moral law is, to a 
considerable degree, an illusion. The social will takes 
us up into itself and forms us. In our early youth we 
are acutely conscious of the process. A vast number 
of the things a boy wants to do are things that do not 
suit the social will at all. He wants to break windows ; 
he wants to fight other boys; he wants to be idle; his 
delight is in adventures not normally within the reach 
of, or suited to the taste of, the citizens of an ordered 
state. It is little w T onder that the boy regards the moral 
law as a nuisance and the state as a suitable refuge for 
those suffering from senile decay. 

There are individuals who scarcely get beyond this 
stage. They remain, even in their later years, at war 
with the state. From time to time, we seize them and 
incarcerate them. That the law forbids and punishes, 
they never forget. It is chiefly for such that the criminal 
law exists. They are in the state, but they are not of it. 
They have small share in the heritage of the civilized 
man. 

For most of us there comes a time when most prohi- 
bitions are little thought of. It has been maintained, 
that the law is negative partly for the reason that posi- 
tive duties are too numerous to be formulated. But 
how numerous are the things that ought not to be done 
which normal men never think of doing! At this 
moment, I could swallow a pen, taste the ink in the 
ink-well, throw my papers from the window, hurl the 
porcelain jar on the chimney-piece at the cat next door, 



MORAL LAW AND IDEALS 301 

swing on the chandelier. I am conscious of no con- 
straint in not doing these things. Why? I have become 
to some degree adjusted to the type which the social will 
strives to produce. 

(2) And, having become so far adjusted, I recognize 
that the social will is distributing rewards most lavishly. 
The whole organism of society is its instrument. Work 
is found for me, and I am paid for it. If I am industri- 
ous and dependable, I am recompensed. If I am truth- 
ful, I am believed, which is no little convenience. If 
I am energetic and persevering, I may grow rich or be 
elected to office. If I am courteous, I am liked and am 
treated with courtesy. 

Every day I am paid, in the ordinary course of things, 
according to my deserts. Why should society work 
out an extraordinary system of rewards for those whom 
it is already rewarding automatically? 

In some cases, recourse is had to extraordinary rewards. 
We give prizes to children in the schools ; we give medals 
to soldiers for distinguished service; we confer honorary 
degrees upon men for a variety of reasons. In mon- 
archical countries and in their colonies, the man who 
earns an extraordinary reward may even pass it on, in 
the shape of a title, to his descendants, as though it 
were original sin. But the giving of extraordinary 
rewards to all ordinary, normal persons would be too 
much. 

The man who markedly offends against the moral law 
is not an ordinary, normal person. He is not adjusted to 
the social will. It is natural that he should attract 
especial attention. Thus the " Thou shalt not! " is given 
prominence. To this I might add, that punishments are 



302 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

cheaper and easier than extraordinary rewards. Pains 
are sharper than pleasures, and are easily inflicted. 

(3) It is worthy of remark that, with the evolution 
of morality, it tends to become positive. The en- 
lightened moral man recognizes, not merely the actual 
social will, but also the Rational Social Will.. He may 
feel it his duty to do much more than society formally 
demands of him. 

145. How Can One Know the Moral Law? — This 
question has already been answered in chapters pre- 
ceding. Every man has three counsellors: (1) The 
"objective" morality of his community — custom, law, 
and public opinion, which certainly deserve to be taken 
very seriously; (2) his moral intuitions, which may be 
of the finest; and (3) his reason, which prevents him 
from making decisions without reflection. 

Can a man who listens to these three counsellors be 
sure that he is right in a given decision? The sooner a 
man learns that he is not infallible and impeccable, the 
better it will be for him, for his neighbor, and for the 
world at large. 



CHAPTER XXXII 
THE MORAL CONCEPTS 

146. Good and Bad; Right and Wrong. — As a rule, 
men reflect little touching the moral terms which are on 
their lips every day. It is well worth while to take some 
of them up and to turn them over for examination. 

We may use the terms " good " and " bad," " right " 
and " wrong/' in a very broad sense. A " good " trick 
may be a contemptible action ; the " right " way to crack 
a bank-safe may be the means to the successful com- 
mission of a crime. Evidently, the words, thus used, 
are not employed in a moral sense. 

When we pass judgments from the moral point of 
view, we concern ourselves with men and with their 
actions, and measure them by the standard of the social 
will. Men and actions are " good," when they can meet 
the test. Actions are " right " or " wrong," when they 
are in accordance with the dictates of the moral law, 
or are at variance with them. That an act may be 
both right and wrong, when viewed from different stand- 
points, even on moral ground, we have seen in Chap- 
ter XXX. A man may mean to do right, and may, 
through ignorance or error, be guilty of an act that we 
condemn. To the intelligent, confusions are here un- 
necessary. But the history of ethics is full of confusions 
in just this field. 

147. Duty and Obligation. — Verbal usage sometimes 

303 



304 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

justifies the use of one of these words, and sometimes that 
of the other. We say: I did my duty; we do not say: I 
did my obligation. But this is a mere matter of verbal 
expression, and we are really concerned with two names 
for the same thing. 

(1) There has been much dispute as to whether the 
sense of duty or moral obligation can or cannot be an- 
alyzed. It has been declared unanalyzable and unique. 
Some think this a point of much importance which im- 
parts a peculiar sacredness to the sense of duty. 

There appears no reason why this position should be 
taken. No one has been able to analyze into its ultimate 
sensational elements the peculiar feeling one has when 
one is tickled. But this does not make the feeling sacred 
or awe-inspiring. The authority of the sense of duty 
must be looked for in another direction — and authority 
it has. 

(2) I have spoken of the " sense " of duty. We all 
recognize that, when we are faced with a duty, a feeling 
is normally present. But the whole argument of this 
volume has maintained that man is not to be treated 
only as the subject of emotions. He is a rational being. 
In some persons feeling is very prominent ; in others it is 
less so. It is quite conceivable that, in a given case, a 
man capable of reflection should recognize that he is 
confronted with a duty, and yet that he should feel no 
impulse to perform it. Did no one ever feel any such 
impulse, the whole system of duties, the whole rational 
order of society itself, would dissolve and disappear. 

Fortunately, the normal man does feel an impulse to 
perform duties recognized as such. And in the case of 
those exceptional persons who do not, society strives to 



THE MORAL CONCEPTS 305 

supply surrogates, extraordinary impulses based upon 
a system of rewards and punishments. This is a mere 
supplement, and could never keep alive a society from 
which the sense of duty had disappeared. 

Duty is sacred. It is the very foundation of every 
rational society. It does not greatly concern ethics 
whether the impulse, which makes itself felt in men who 
want to do their duty, can or cannot be analyzed. But 
it is all-important that they should feel the impulse. 

(3) Can a man do more than his duty ? Is it the duty 
of everyone to be, not merely a good, average, honest, 
faithful, law-abiding citizen, but to go far beyond this 
and be conspicuously a saint ? 

It should be remembered that we are concerned with 
the connotation properly to be given to a word in com- 
mon use. 

A certain amount of goodness the social will appears 
to demand of men rather peremptorily. Its demands 
seem to vary somewhat with the exigencies of the times 
— for example, in peace and in war. It does not make 
the same demands of all men. From those to whom 
much has been given — wealth, education, social or po- 
litical influence, — much is required. From certain per- 
sons it appears to be glad to get anything. If they keep 
out of the police-court, it is agreeably surprised. 

I have no desire to dissuade anyone from the arduous 
pursuit of sainthood; but I submit that the word " duty," 
as sanctioned by usage, implies but a limited demand, 
and takes cognizance of character and environment. He 
who comes up to this moderate standard is not con- 
demned; but he is free to go farther and to become as 
great a saint as he pleases. In which case, we admire him. 



,'306 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

Those who, in the past, have spoken of " counsels of per- 
fection," have drawn upon a profound knowledge of 
human nature and of human societies. 

148. Reward and Punishment. — We saw in the last 
chapter (§ 144) that it is something of a criticism upon 
man and upon societies of men that extraordinary re- 
wards have to be given and that punishments must be 
inflicted. 

More attention has been paid to punishments than to 
rewards, and the question touching the proper aim of 
punishment in a civilized state has received much dis- 
cussion. The study of the history of the infliction of 
punishment is suggestive, but it does not shed a clear 
light. The social will has not always been a rational 
social will, and some of its decisions may be placed 
among the curiosities of literature. Still, they may 
serve the purpose of the traditional " terrible example." 

Should we, in punishing, aim at the prevention of 
crime? Are punishments to be " deterrent " ? Under 
this head we must consider, not merely the criminal 
himself, but also those who are in more or less danger 
of becoming criminals, though they have, as yet, com- 
mitted no known crime. 

Should the aim of punishment be the reformation of 
the criminal? 

Should we punish merely that " justice " be done? He 
who steals and eats fruit is visited with punishment, in 
the course of nature, if the fruit is unripe. But he suf- 
fers equally if he eats his own fruit, under like conditions. 
This seems a blind punishment. Should we visit pain 
upon him for the theft, merely because it is a theft, and 
without looking abroad for any other reason? 



THE MORAL COxNCEPTS 307 

Light appears to be thrown upon these problems when 
we reflect that punishment is an instrument, employed 
by the Rational Social Will, in pursuance of its ends. 

(1) It is desirable that men should be deterred from 
committing crime. If this cannot be done save by the 
infliction of punishment, then let men be punished. But 
be it remembered that punishment is a regrettable 
necessity, and that the occasions for the infliction of 
penalties may greatly' be diminished by the amelioration 
of the organism of society. There is the born criminal, 
as there is the born inmate of an asylum for the insane. 
But there is also the manufactured criminal ; the product 
of the slum, the victim of ignorance, the prey of the 
walking-delegate, the sufferer from over-work and under- 
nourishment, the inhabitant of the filthy and over- 
crowded tenement, the man robbed of his self-respect, 
who has no share in the sweetness and light of civili- 
zation. A society that first manufactures criminals and 
then expends great sums in punishing them is, in so far, 
not rational. 

(2) It is desirable that the criminal should be re- 
formed and returned to society as a normal man. But 
this is not the one and only aim of the social will. The 
whole flock should not be sacrificed to the one black 
sheep, as some sentimental persons appear to believe. 
There is room here for the exercise of judgment and of 
some cool calculation. 

(3) As for the demand that a given pain shall be 
inflicted for a given wrong done, irrespective of any gain 
to anybody, and irrespective of consequences, — it ap- 
pears to carry one back to ancient and primitive law. 

Undoubtedly many punishments have been inflicted in 



308 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

the past to satisfy the sense of resentment. 1 Undoubt- 
edly the same is true of the present. Can anything be 
said in favor of this impulse? It plays no small part 
in the life of humanity. 

We feel that a bad man ought to be punished. We 
harbor a certain resentment against him. The resent- 
ment of the individual for personal injuries we recog- 
nize to be wrong. It is not impartial, and it is apt to 
be excessive and unreasoning. Public order demands 
that it be refused expression. 

But is the — we must admit, somewhat more disin- 
terested — resentment of the community a rational 
thing? Have men, collectively, no whims, no preju- 
dices? When a trial is deferred, and public indignation 
has cooled off, how do the chances of the prisoner com- 
pare with those he enjoyed just after the commission of 
the crime? And yet something may be said for public 
resentment. It has a certain driving-power. It may be 
questioned whether either our desire to deter men from 
crime, or our benevolent interest in the criminal, would 
be quite sufficient to enforce law, if all sense of resent- 
ment against the law-breaker were lacking. Its useful- 
ness as an instrument of the social will appears to give 
it a certain justification. But it also suggests that even 
public resentment should not be given free rein. 

1 It may be objected that we are not concerned here with 
resentment but with the satisfaction of " justice." Men's no- 
tions of the " justice " of punishments have been touched upon 
in chapter ii, § 4. Plato suggests, in his Laws, that the slave 
who steals a bunch of grapes should receive a blow for every 
grape in the bunch. This has an agreeably mathematical flavor 
of exactitude. But what shall be done to the man who steals 
half of a ham or a third of a watermelon? 



THE MORAL CONCEPTS 309 

Before leaving the subject of reward and punishment, 
it may be well to say a word touching our use of the 
terms credit and discredit, merit and demerit. 

We do not give a man credit for an action, we do not 
think of him as meritorious, merely because he has done 
right. Who thinks of praising the young mother for 
feeding and washing her first-born? Who shakes the 
hand of the Sunday-school teacher and congratulates him 
upon having stolen nothing for a week? But the waif 
from the gutter who wanders through a department-store 
and resolutely takes nothing, emerging exhausted with 
the struggle, we slap upon the back and call a little man. 

Our notions of credit and merit are bound up with our 
notions of extraordinary rewards. The creditable action, 
the meritorious man, have a certain claim upon us, if 
only the claim of special recognition. Any man who 
makes a notable step forward deserves credit, whatever 
his actual position upon the moral scale. He who only 
" marks time " upon a relatively high level may be a 
good man, but we do not give him credit for the act 
normally to be expected of him. The recognition of 
merit is a part of the machinery of moralization. 

149. Virtues and Vices. — One swallow, said Aristotle, 
does not make a spring, nor does one happy day make a 
happy life. Elsewhere he draws our attention to the 
fact that one good action does not constitute a virtue. 

We may define the virtues as those relatively perma- 
nent qualities of character which it is desirable, from 
the moral point of view, that a man should have. The 
vices are the corresponding defects. I shall not attempt 
to draw up a list of the virtues. For a variety of lists, 
exhibiting curious and interesting diversities, I refer the 
reader back to Chapter III, §§ 9-11. 



310 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

The Rational Social Will aims to build up a social 
order which shall do justice to the fundamental impulses 
and desires of man, a social and rational creature. The 
stones which it must build into its edifice are human 
beings. If the human beings are mere lumps of soft 
clay, incapable of holding their shape or of bearing any 
weight, the walls cannot rise. And a human being may 
be satisfactory in one respect, and far from satisfactory 
in another. No one of us is wholly ignorant of the 
qualities desirable in our building-material. Custom, 
law and public opinion are there to indicate what quali- 
ties have, in fact, proved, on the whole, not detrimental. 
Our intuitions help us in forming a judgment. Rational 
reflection is of service. 

But one thing is very evident. Nowhere is it made 
clearer than in the study of the virtues and vices, that 
the moralist cannot consider the phenomena, with which 
he occupies himself, in a state of isolation. 

Is courage a virtue? Is, then, the man who is willing 
to take the risk of breaking a bank, or holding up a 
stage-coach, in so far virtuous? Is perseverance a virtue? 
Is, then, the woman, who holds out to the bitter end in 
her desire to have the last word, in so far virtuous? Is 
justice a virtue? Then why not be virtuous in demand- 
ing the pound of flesh, if it is the law — as it once was? 

Certain qualities of character have been recognized as, 
on the whole, and generally, serviceable to the social 
will. But a man is not a quality of character, and quali- 
ties of character are sometimes gathered into strange 
bundles. It is of men that the state is composed; of 
thinking, feeling men. We cannot isolate qualities of 
character, and assess their value in their isolation. 



THE MORAL CONCEPTS :J11 

150. Conscience. — We are all forced to recognize that 
conscience has its dual aspect. It is characterized by 
feeling; and the feeling is seldom blind, or, at least, 
wholly blind; conscience implies a judgment that some- 
thing is right or wrong. 

(1) The feeling is, to be sure, very often in the fore- 
ground. Those who say, " My conscience tells me that 
this is wrong," often mean little more than, " I feel that 
it is wrong." 

But the word " feeling " is an ambiguous one. It is 
used to cover all sorts of intuitive judgments as well as 
mere emotions. The man who takes the time to reflect 
upon his feeling of the rightness or wrongness of an action 
can often discover some, perhaps rather vague, reason 
for his feeling proper. 

(2) In other words, he may come upon an intuitive 
judgment. And the thoughtful man who talks about 
his conscience is rarely satisfied with a blind intuition; 
he wants to be sure he is right, and he thinks the whole 
matter over. 

(3) The feeling and the judgment are not necessarily 
in accord. The feeling may lag behind an enlightened 
judgment. On the other hand, the feeling of repugnance 
to acting in certain ways may be a justifiable protest 
against a bit of intellectual sophistry. 

(4) So much ought to be admitted by everyone who 
holds that conscience may be blunted or may be en- 
lightened. Consciences vary indefinitely. Some we set 
down as hopelessly below the average; others we 
reverence as refined and enlightened. The social worker 
makes it his aim to " awaken " conscience, to cultivate 
it, to bring it up to a high standard. No practical moral- 



312 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

ist regards the conscience of the individual as something 
which must simply be left to itself and treated as sacred, 
no»matter what its character. 

(5) The above sufficiently explains some of the puzzles 
which confront the man who reverences conscience and 
yet studies the consciences of his fellow-men. He finds 
that the individual conscience is not an infallible guide- 
post pointing to right action; that it is not a perfect 
time-keeper, in complete accord with the watches of other 
men. 

" It's a turrible thing to have killed the wrong man," 
said the conscience-stricken illicit distiller in his moun- 
tain fastness. " I never seen good come o' goodness yet; 
him as strikes first is my fancy," said the dying 
pirate in " Treasure Island." Augustine, passing over 
much worse offences, exhausts himself in agonies of re- 
morse over a boyish prank. 2 Seneca draws up a list of 
the most horrifying crimes, and decides that ingratitude 
exceeds them all in enormity. 3 

(6) It appears to be quite evident that consciences 
ought to be standardized, and that the standard should 
be made a high one. The true standard is the one set 
by the Rational Social Will. It is as much a duty to 
have a good conscience as it is to obey the conscience 
one has. 

2 See chapter xx, § 78. 3 On Benefits, i, 10. 



CHAPTER XXXIII 
THE ETHICS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 

151. What is Meant by the Term? — Men collected 
into groups and organized in various ways we call states, 
and we treat a state as a unit. We look upon it as hav- 
ing rights and as owing duties both to individuals and to 
other states. There are individuals whom we are apt to 
regard as representatives of the state; as instruments, 
rather than as men — executive officers, legislators, 
official interpreters of its laws, whether good or bad. 
For states and their representatives we often have 
especial moral standards, differing more or less from 
those by which we judge human beings merely as human 
beings. It is with the morality of the latter that I am 
here concerned. 

To be sure, all human beings are to be found in states, 
or in that rudimentary social something which fore- 
shadows the state. To talk of the morality of the iso- 
lated individual is nonsense. Morality is the expression 
of the social will; and if we think of even Robinson 
Crusoe as a good man, it means that we apply to him 
social standards. Had he not been moralized, he would 
have killed and eaten Friday, when the latter made his 
appearance. 

We must, then, take the individual as we find him in 
the state, but it is convenient to consider his morality 
separately from the ethics of the state, its institutions 
and its instruments. 

313 



314 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

152. The Virtues of the Individual. — What moral 
traits have we a right to look for in the individual man? 
What sort of a man is it his duty to be? 

Evidently, men's duties must vary somewhat according 
to the type of the society to which they belong, and to 
their definite place in that society. Still, certain general 
desirable traits of character unavoidably suggest them- 
selves. To attempt a complete list seems futile, but 
the most salient have been dwelt upon by the moralists 
of many schools, and for centuries past. 

Does it not appear self-evident that a man should be 
law-abiding, honest, industrious, truthful, and capable 
of unselfishness? Should he not have a regard for his 
health and efficiency? Should he not aim to develop 
his capacities, and in so far to diminish the dead mass of 
ignorance and bad taste which weighs down society? 

Of marital fidelity, with all that that implies — per- 
sonal purity, the good of one's children, a fine sense of 
loyalty — it is scarcely necessary to speak. No man, 
betrothed or married, can be sure that he will not meet 
tomorrow some woman whom the unprejudiced would 
judge to be more attractive than the one to whom he 
has bound himself. Shall he remain unprejudiced — a 
floating mine, ready to explode at any accidental con- 
tact? Away with him! He has, in the eyes of the 
scientific moralist, " too much ego in his cosmos." 
Those babble of lt affinities " who know little, and care 
less, about the long and arduous ascent up which man- 
kind has toiled, in the effort to attain to civilization. 

And what shall we say of such things as religious 
duties, of cheerfulness, of good manners, of personal 
cleanliness? Of religious duties I shall speak elsewhere. 1 
1 Chapter xxxvi. 



THE ETHICS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 315 

As to cheerfulness and good manners, it is only neces- 
sary to reflect upon the baleful influence exercised upon 
the young — who have here my entire sympathy — by a 
bilious and depressing piety, or by those who are rudely 
and superciliously moral. 

Cleanliness deserves some special attention, on ac- 
count of the fact that it has perplexed even thoughtful 
scholars to discover why society has come to regard it 
as a duty at all. 2 That, if society does regard cleanli- 
ness as important, it should be the duty of the individual 
to keep himself and his house clean presents no problem. 
He has no right to make himself gratuitously offensive, 
and gratuitously offensive he will be, if he is a dirty 
fellow. But why does anyone object to his being a 
dirty fellow? The prejudice in favor of cleanliness does 
not appear to be universal — witness the Eskimo and 
various other peoples. 

We have learned that the social will has its foundation 
in the fundamental impulses and instincts of man. 
An admirable scholar has suggested that the ultimate 
root of the regard for cleanliness which more or less 
characterizes civilized societies may be traced to some 
such primitive and inexplicable impulse to cleanliness as 
we observe, for example, in the cat. 3 It must be admitted 
that it is far more marked in the cat than in the human 
being. A kitten is much more fastidious than is a baby, 
and a grown cat would tolerate no powder or rouge. 

But, assuming that such an instinct exists, even in 
weak measure, it might easily develop with the develop- 

2 The chapter on cleanliness by Epictetus is a homily, and 
not a philosophic argument. See, Discourses, Book IV, chapter xi. 

3 Westermarck, Origin and Development of the Moral Ideas, 
chapter xxxix. 



316 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

ment of society. And, as man is a rational being, capa- 
ble of discovering a connection between cleanliness and 
hygiene, the duty of cleanliness would acquire a new 
authority. Dirt becomes no longer merely distasteful; 
it is recognized as a danger. 

153. Conventional Morality. — There are virtues — 
taking the traits of character indicated by the names 
broadly and loosely, and making allowance for all sorts 
of variations within wide limits — which appear to be 
recognized as such very generally. Bishop Butler re- 
garded justice, veracity and regard to common good as 
valued in all societies. Certainly they have served as 
expressions of the social will in many societies, ancient 
and modern, primitive and highly civilized. 

We have seen that the forms under which they appear 
are not independent of the degree and kind of the 
development of the society we may happen to be con- 
templating. 4 And we have realized that man is born 
into a world of ready-made duties which are literally 
forced upon his attention. He finds himself a member 
of a family, somebody's neighbor, a resident in a town 
or village, allotted to a social class, an employer or 
an employee, a citizen of a state. Justice, veracity and 
a regard for common good appear to have their value in 
all these relations; but the manner of their interpretation 
is not independent of the relations, and the relations with 
their appropriate demands are relatively independent 
of the individual will. One cannot ignore these demands 
and fall back, independently, upon metaphysical theory. 
Aristotle's claim that a man cannot be unjust to his own 
child, because the child is a part of himself, and a man 
4 See chapter ii. 



THE ETHICS OF THE INDIVIDUAL 317 

cannot be unjust to himself, 5 excites our curiosity. It 
does not elicit our approval. 

It is because the vast majority of our duties are so un- 
equivocally thrust upon us that I have been able to 
touch so lightly, in the last section, upon the duties of 
the individual. Why dilate upon what everybody knows? 
Is it not enough to set him thinking about it? 

And, in helping him to think, the reference to the 
virtue of cleanliness has its value. Cleanliness is prized 
by those who know little of hygiene. If a society cannot 
be happy without cleanliness, for whatever reason, is it 
not the duty of the individual to be clean? But how 
clean should he be? 

There are virtues — I use the word here broadly to 
cover approved habits — which seem to have a very 
direct reference to chronology and geography. They 
are conventional virtues; they suit a given society, and 
satisfy its actual social will. A Vermont housekeeper 
in an igloo would be an intolerable nuisance. Imagine 
an unbroken succession of New England house-cleanings 
with the inhabitants of the house sitting in despair in 
the snow outside. 

Those who live north of the Alps are sometimes criti- 
cized for dipping Zwieback into their tea. Those who 
live south of the Alps eat macaroni in ways revolting 
to other nations. A very pretty Frenchwoman, devour- 
ing snails after the approved fashion of the locality, has 
driven me out of an excellent restaurant. And the world 
opens its eyes in wonder when it sees the well-bred Anglo- 
Saxon dispose of his asparagus. 

There is a little-recognized virtue called toleration. 
5 Ethics, Book V, chapter vi, § 7. 



318 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

St. Ambrose was a wise man when he advised St. 
Augustine to do, when in Pvome, as the Romans do. 
Of course, he did not mean this to apply to robbery or 
to murder. He was giving an involuntary recognition to 
the doctrine that there are conventional virtues, worthy 
of our notice, as well as virtues of heavier caliber and 
wider range. 



CHAPTER XXXIV 
THE ETHICS OF THE STATE 

154. The Aim of the State. — He who has resolved to 
devote but a single chapter to the Ethics of the State 
must deliberately sacrifice nine-tenths, at least, of the 
material — some of it very good material, and some of 
it most curious and interesting — which has heaped 
itself together on his hands in the course of his reading 
and thinking. I have resolved to write only the one 
chapter. The State is the background of the individual, 
the scaffold which supports his moral life. Without it, 
he may be a being; but he is scarcely recognizable as a 
human being. It has made the individual what he is, 
and it is the medium in which he can give expression to 
the nature which he now possesses. 

Plato maintains that the object of the constitution 
of the state is the happiness of the whole, not of any 
part. 1 Aristotle, in his " Politics," maintains that it is 
the aim of the state to enable men to live well. Sidgwick 
defines politics as " the theory of what ought to be (in 
human affairs) as far as this depends on the common 
action of societies of men." 2 We may agree with all 
three, and yet leave ourselves much latitude in determin- 
ing the nature of the organization of, and the limits 
properly to be set to the activities of, the State as such. 

1 Republic, II. It must be borne in mind that both Plato and 
Aristotle had the Greek prejudice touching citizenship. Their 
" citizenship " was enjoyed by a strictly limited class. 

2 The Methods of Ethics, chapter ii. 

319 



320 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

Shall the State only strive to repress grave disorders? or 
shall it take a paternal interest in its citizens, making 
them virtuous and happy in spite of themselves? 

155. Its Origin and Authority. — In Parts III to VI 
we have seen how and upon what basis the State has 
grown up. It is an organism, something that lives and 
grows. It is not a machine, deliberately put together 
at a definite time by some man or some group of men. 
The " social contract " fanatic may have read history, 
but he has not understood it. Of psychology he has no 
comprehension at all. 

Herodotus, at some of whose stories we smile, was a 
wiser man. He writes: "It appears certain to me, 
by a great variety of proofs, that Cambyses was raving 
mad ; he would not else have set himself to make a mock 
of holy rites and long-established usages. For, if one 
were to offer men to choose out of all the customs in 
the world such as seemed to them the best, they would 
examine the whole number, and end by preferring their 
own; so convinced are they that their own usages far 
surpass those of all others. " 3 

This may be something of an over-statement, for men 
in one state have shown themselves to be, within limits, 
capable of learning from men in another. But only 
within limits. Those things which give a state sta- 
bility — and without stability we are tossed upon the 
waves of mere anarchy — have their roots in the remote 
past. Strip a man of his past, and he is little better 
than an idiot; strip men within the State of their corpo- 
rate institutions and ideals, of their loyalties and emo- 

3 The History of Herodotus, Book III, chapter xxxviii, trans- 
lated by George Rawlinson, London, 1910. 



THE ETHICS OF THE STATE 321 

tional leanings, and we have on our hands a mob of 
savages, something much below the tribe proper, knit 
into unity of purpose by custom and tribal law. 

The State has its origin in man as a creature desiring 
and willing, and at the same time endowed with reason. 
Its authority is the authority of reason. Not reason 
in the abstract, with no ground to stand upon, and no 
material for its exercise; but reason as incorporate in 
institutions and social usages; reason which takes cogni- 
zance of the nature of man, and recognizes what man 
has already succeeded in doing. 

Where shall we look for a limit to the authority of 
the State? Surely, only in the Reason which makes it 
possible for the State to be. The State must not defeat 
its own object. 

156. Forms of Organization. — The special science of 
politics enters in detail into the forms of organization 
of the State. The ethical philosopher must content him- 
self with certain general reflections. Everyone knows 
that States have been organized in divers ways ; and that 
their citizens, under much the same form of political 
organization, have been here happy and contented, and 
there in a state of ferment. The form of government 
counts for something; but its suitability to the popula- 
tion governed, and the degree of enlightenment and 
discipline characteristic of the population, count for much 
more. It is not every shoe that fits every foot, and 
there are feet that are little at home in shoes of any 
description. 

Monarchies of many sorts, aristocracies, oligarchies, 
democracies, even communisms, have been tried; and 
all, save the last, have managed to hold their own with 
some degree of success. 



322 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

It is easy to bring objections against each form of 
government, just as it is easy to say something specious 
in its favor. 

Are the eldest sons of a few families peculiarly fitted 
by nature to be governors of the State? Look at history, 
and wake up to common sense. Of the divine right of 
kings I shall not speak, for the adherents of the doctrine 
are in our day relegated to museums of antiquities. And 
have the members of aristocracies been carefully bred 
with a view to their intellectual and moral superiority, 
as we breed fine varieties of horses and dogs? Have 
those who have had their share in oligarchies been pe- 
culiarly wise and peculiarly devoted to the common 
good? The communist makes two fatal mistakes. He 
shuts his eyes to history, and he overlooks the fact that 
there is such a thing as human nature. 

There remains democracy. Of this, Herodotus, already 
quoted as a man of sense, has his opinion. He makes a 
shrewd Persian, in a political crisis, thus address his 
fellow- conspirators : 

" There is nothing so void of understanding, nothing 
so full of wantonness, as the unwieldy rabble. It were 
folly not to be borne, for men, while seeking to escape 
the wantonness of a tyrant, to give themselves up to the 
wantonness of a rude unbridled mob. The tj^rant, in 
all his doings, at least knows what he is about, but a 
mob is altogether devoid of knowledge; for how should 
there be any knowledge in a rabble, untaught, and with 
no natural sense of what is right and fit? It rushes 
wildly into state affairs with all the fury of a stream 
swollen in the winter, and confuses everything. Let the 
enemies of the Persians be ruled by democracies; but 



THE ETHICS OF THE STATE 323 

let us choose out from the citizens a certain number of 
the worthiest, and put the government into their 
hands." 4 

To be sure, we, who belong to a modern, enlightened 
democracy, would resent being called " a rude unbridled 
mob," and being likened to the populace of ancient 
Persia. But those of us who reflect recognize the dangers 
that lurk in the " psychology of the crowd " ; and we are 
all aware that, after a popular vote, it is quite possible 
to discover that few, except a handful of office-holders, 
have gotten anything that they really want. Democ- 
racy is not a panacea for all political evils, and there 
are democracies of many kinds. 

Still, when all is said, it seems as though the Rational 
Social Will, the ultimate arbiter of every moral State, 
should give its authority to a democratic form of govern- 
ment, rather than to another form. Every individual 
will has a prima facie claim to recognition. 

But the Rational Social Will can never forget that 
human nature is in process of development, and that each 
nation, at a given time, is a historical phenomenon. The 
Rational Social Will is too enlightened to drape an 
infant in the raiment appropriate to a college graduate. 
It is only an intemperate enthusiasm that is capable 
of that. 

157. The Laws of the State.— The State allots to 
individuals, and to the lesser groups of human beings, 
of which it is composed, rights., and it prescribes to them 
duties. Upon its activities in this sphere I can touch 
only by way of illustration, and for the sake of making 
clear the nature of the functions of the State. 

* Op. cit. Book III, chapter lxxxi. 



324 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

(1) To whom shall the State grant a share in the 
formulation and execution of its laws? Once, in com- 
munities very enlightened, in their own peculiar way, 
women, children, slaves, mechanics, petty traders, and 
hired servants were deemed quite unfit to be entrusted 
with such responsibilities. 5 

With us, the position of woman has changed. Slavery, 
in a technical sense, has been abolished. The mechanic 
and the petty trader are much in evidence at " prima- 
ries." Hired servants are by some accused of being 
tyrants. Children, and defectives who are grossly and 
palpably defective, we bar from elections, and we also 
reject some criminals. 

The times have changed, and our notions of the right 
of the individual to an active share in the State have 
changed with them. The expression of the social will 
has undergone modification, and I think we can say that 
it is, on the whole, modification in the right direction. 

To be sure, the court of last resort is the Rational 
Social Will. What is best for the State, and, hence, for 
those who compose it? What is practicable in the ac- 
tual condition in which a given state finds itself at a 
given time? It seems too easy a solution of our prob- 
lems to seek dogmatic answers to our questionings by 
having recourse to the " natural light," that ready oracle 
of the philosopher, Descartes. 

(2) There are certain classes of rights which civilized 
states generally guarantee to their citizens with varying 
degrees of success. They make it the duty of their 
citizens to respect these rights in others. 

(a) The laws protect life and limb. Much progress 

5 See Aristotle's Politics. 



THE ETHICS OF THE STATE 325 

has been made in this respect in the last centuries past. 
I own no coat of mail; and, when I walk abroad, I 
neither carry a sword nor surround myself with armed 
retainers. 

(£>) They protect private property. To be sure, the 
" promoter " may prey upon my simplicity ; and the 
state itself does not recognize that I have any absolute 
right to my property, any more than it recognizes that 
I have an absolute right to my life. 

It may send me into the trenches. It may take from 
me what it will in the form of taxes. It may even forbid 
me to increase my income by using my property in 
ways which will make me insupportable to my neighbors. 
But it will not allow my neighbor, who is stronger than 
I, to take possession of my house without form of law. 
It will even allow me to dispose of my property by will, 
after my death. 

I suggest that those, to whom this right appears to be 
rooted in the very nature of things, and not to be a 
creation of the State, called into being at the behest of 
the social will in a certain stage of its development, 
should read and re-read what Sir Henry Maine has to 
say about testamentary succession, in his wonderful 
little book on " Ancient Law. " 6 

The State has not always treated a man as an indi- 
vidual, directly and personally responsible to the state. 
It has treated him as a member of a family or some 
other group; a being endowed, by virtue of his position, 
with certain rights, and burdened with certain duties. 
A being who, when he drops out of being, is auto- 
matically replaced by someone else who is clothed upon 
with both his rights and his responsibilities. 
6 See chapters vi and vii. 



326 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

Our conceptions have changed. The lesser groups 
within the State have to some degree lost their cohesion, 
and the bond between the individual, as such, and the 
state has been correspondingly strengthened. But many 
traces of the old conception make themselves apparent. 
The law compels me to provide for my wife and children ; 
and, if I die intestate, the law by no means assumes that 
my property is left without a claimant. 

Have we been moving in the right direction, as judged 
by the standard of the Rational Social Will? We think 
so. But it is well to bear in mind what Herodotus said 
about the madness of Cambyses, and the prejudice men 
have in favor of their own customs. No state is a 
mere aggregate of unrelated individuals. Men are set 
in families, and the State seems to be composed of groups 
within groups. How far the State should recognize the 
will of the individual, as over against the claims of the 
lesser groups to which he may belong, is a nice question 
for the Rational Social Will to settle. 

(c) The law must regulate marriage and divorce. 
Matters so vital to the interests of society cannot be 
left at the mercy of the egoistic whims of the individual. 
But to what law shall we have recourse? It seems highly 
irrational to have forty-eight independent authorities 
upon this subject within the limits of a single nation. 
And, if we turn the matter over to the churches, we 
discover that we have committed it to the care of one 
hundred and eighty, or more, sects. Add to this, that 
a state of any sort cannot be set upon its feet without 
some difficulty, while any enterprising man or woman 
can call a sect into existence any day. There is a new 
adherent for sectarian eccentricities born every minute. 



THE ETHICS OF THE STATE 327 

Surely, here is a field for the activities of the Rational 
Social Will. 

(d) To paternalism of some sort the modern State, 
as law-giver, seems hopelessly pledged. If we ignore 
this we are simply closing our eyes. The State seems 
to be justified in educating its citizens, in protecting 
children and women against exploitation, in protecting 
the working classes, in stamping out infectious diseases. 
We are not even allowed to expectorate when and where 
we will, a privilege enjoyed by the merest savage. 

(e) In one respect the paternalism of our own State 
has lagged behind that of certain others. We do little 
to secure to a man a decent privacy, or to safeguard 
his personal dignity. The newspaper reporter is allowed 
to rage unchecked, to unearth scandals in private fami- 
lies, and to cause great pain by printing the names of 
individuals. 

I have known, in Europe, a man, after a difference 
of opinion touching the ventilation of a railway 
carriage, to break a window with his elbow and to 
apply to his fellow-passenger an offensive epithet. The 
court made him pay a dollar and a half for breaking 
the window and six dollars for giving himself the pleasure 
of being insulting. 

Which was the greater offense? Herodotus would 
expect this question to be answered in accordance with 
the prejudices of the person giving the answer. 

158. The Rights and Duties of the State. — The State 
evidently has rights over its citizens, and may enforce 
these rights through the infliction of punishment. It 
as evidently has duties. A given state may not be 
answerable to any actual given power. Our own State 



328 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

is in such a position at the present time — there is no 
other, state strong enough to call it to account. 

But this does not free it from duties. No state is 
anything more than a brute force, except as it incorpo- 
rates, in some measure, the Rational Social Will. And 
states that fall far short, as judged by this standard, 
may overstep their rights and ignore their duties, whether 
they are dealing with individuals or with other states. 

In punishing, the State should punish rationally. 7 
And it should not demand of its subjects what will de- 
grade them as moral beings. " We all recognize," said 
a pure and candid soul, " that a rightful sovereign may 
command his subjects to do what is wrong, and that it 
is then their duty to disobey him." 8 

But how discover what demands are just? It is the 
whole argument of this volume that no man should ven- 
ture an opinion upon this subject without having come 
to some appreciation of what is meant by the Rational 
Social Will. Man, his instincts, the degree of his intelli- 
gence and self-control, the history of the development 
of human societies, cannot be ignored. It is the weak- 
ness of good men, endowed with a high degree of specula- 
tive intelligence, to construct Utopias, and to tabulate 
the " rights of man," or, as Bentham well expressed it, 
to make lists of " anarchical fallacies." 9 

Thus, some may, with Plato and Aristotle, advocate 
infanticide. The Greek city-state was a crowded little 
affair, and in danger of over-population. Some may 
propose radical measures to increase the population. 

7 See chapter xxxii § 148. 

8 Sidgwick, Methods oj Ethics, III, vi. 

9 See Works, Bowring's Edition, Volume II. 



THE ETHICS OF THE STATE 329 

To France and Argentina, in our day, such an increase 
appears highly desirable. May any and every method 
be embraced which seems adapted to avert a given evil 
or to attain to a desired end? It is instructive to note 
that Francis Galton, the father of " eugenics," proposed 
to leave morals out of the question as " involving too 
many hopeless difficuties." 10 But do men live well who 
leave morals out of the question? 

The man who falls back upon intuition alone, in his 
advocacy of the abolition of capital punishment, may be 
expected to maintain next that a state, in going to war, 
should stop short at the point where the lives of its 
citizens are put in jeopardy. Why kill a good man, 
when it is wrong to kill a bad one? 

It must be admitted that the State and its representa- 
tives enjoy some rights and duties not accorded to indivi- 
duals. The State may condemn men to death or to 
imprisonment; it may take over property; it may make 
itself a compulsory arbiter between individuals. On 
the other hand, its representatives are not always as 
free as are private persons. The individual, if he is 
a generous soul, may freety forego some of his advan- 
tages and may seek only a fair fight with an opponent. 
It is doubtful whether the duty the State owes to its 
citizens permits of chivalry. Certainly strong states 
do not hesitate to attack weak ones; nor do many hesi- 
tate to combine against one, on the score of fair play. 
And a private man may temper justice with mercy in 
ways forbidden to a judge. 

10 Encyclopedia Britannica, 11th edition, article, " Sociology." 



CHAPTER XXXV 
INTERNATIONAL ETHICS 

159. What is Meant by the Term. — I am almost 
tempted to avoid the discussion of this thorny subject 
by simply referring the reader to what has been said 
already on " The Spread of the Community/' and devel- 
oped in the chapters on " The Rational Social Will " and 
" The Individual and the Social Will." x 

He who confines himself to generalities avoids many 
difficulties and can assure himself of the approval of 
many. Who condemns justice and humanity in the 
abstract? Who can wax eloquent in his condemnation 
of freedom? Who finds the Christian Church on his side, 
when he advocates rapacity and the oppression of the 
helpless, without entering into details? 

On the other hand, who wishes to view his country 
with a cold impartiality, and to place its interests ex- 
actly on a par with the interests of other lands? Who, 
save the Chinaman himself, thinks it as important that 
a Chinaman should have enough to eat as that an 
American or an Englishman should? Was not the 
turpitude, that excluded the Chinaman from Australia, 
traced to the two deadly sins of undue diligence and 
sobriety? 2 As for freedom, men of certain nations 
regard it as the highest virtue to be willing to die for 

1 See § 75 and chapters xxi-xxii. 

2 Encyclopedia Britannica, 11th edition, article, "Australia." 

330 



INTERNATIONAL ETHICS 331 

it — their own freedom, be it understood, — while they 
regard the same desire for freedom on the part of their 
colonists as a moral obliquity to be extirpated, root and 
branch. 

That the historian and the sociologist should find 
much to say touching the relation of nations to each 
other and to subject peoples goes without saying. 
But the cynic may maintain with some plausibility 
that the moralist's chapter on International Ethics must 
be as void of content as the traditional chapter on 
" Snakes in Ireland." In this the cynic is wrong, as 
usual; but it is instructive to listen to him, if only that 
we may intelligently refute him. 

It is not always easy for an individual to determine 
just what he owes to his family, to his neighbors, or 
to his country. Is it surprising that it should be diffi- 
cult for men to determine just what one country, or what 
one race, owes to another? This is the subject of inter- 
national ethics. He who treads upon this ground should 
walk gingerly, and not feel too sure of himself. But 
there is no reason why the moralist should not put upon 
paper such reflections as occur to him. He cannot say 
anything more devoid of reason than much that is said 
by others. 

The great Grotius, in writing on international law, in 
the seventeenth century, drew his illustrations chiefly 
from Greeks and Romans long dead. He had much 
more recent material ready to hand. But he well knew 
that he, who would induce another to give him calm and 
dispassionate attention, must not begin by treading on 
the toes of his listener. I shall strive to profit by his 
example. It is best to say only what each man can 
apply to his neighbor. We are all sensitive in this field. 



332 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

160. Our Method of Approach to the Subject. — We 

have seen (§80) that rational elements are to be found 
even in the irrational will, if one will look below the 
surface. 

Is it rational for the mother to place before all else 
the interests of the hairless, toothless and, apparently, 
mindless little creature that she clasps to her breast? 
The very existence of society depends upon her having 
the feeling that prompts her to do it. Is it rational to 
favor one's neighbor, to be proud of one's native town, 
which may be a poor sort of a town? Is it rational 
to be patriotic, even when one's state is not much of 
a state? 

We have seen that the Rational Social Will incorpor- 
ates itself in societies very gradually, and that it draws 
into its service lesser groups of many descriptions. He 
who detaches himself from these lesser groups is not a 
man. He is the mere outline of a man — the " feather- 
less biped " of the philosopher. It is not of such that a 
state can be made. 

It is the duty of the state to prevent a man from 
shrinking into being the mere member of some lesser 
group, but it is not its duty to obliterate what is 
human in him. And the Rational Social Will must see 
to it that he does not, on the other hand, forget, in a 
blind and irrational patriotism, that he is a human being 
with a capacity for human sympathies — sympathies 
extending far beyond the limits of any state. Except 
when they are under the influence of strong passion, 
I think we may say that men in civilized states, at 
least, have already shown themselves amenable to the 
influence of the Rational Social Will in this direction. 



INTERNATIONAL ETHICS 333 

It must be confessed that that influence has, as yet, 
been limited. 

The approach to the subject of international ethics 
must lie in the recognition that men are set in families, 
in neighborhoods, in towns or cities, in states; and are 
yet human beings with a capacity for respecting and 
loving those who belong to none of these particular 
organizations. My advice to the man who wishes to 
abuse his fellow-man is to do it quickly, and before he 
is acquainted with him. If he gets to know him well, 
he will probably find something lovable in him, and 
he will lose the pleasure of being malicious. 

161. Some Problems of International Ethics. — The 
man who reads history finds, sometimes, things to in- 
spire him; and sometimes, things that are depressing. 
He sees that the family must expand into the clan, 
that the clan must come into contact with others, that 
the state must rise, and that some interrelation of states 
is an inevitable necessity. He sees that man's increase 
in insight, in diligence, in enterprise, must make him 
reach out and trade with his fellow-man. 

He sees also conquest, with the subjugation of peoples; 
he sees trade extended by force, and under the smoke 
of cannon; he sees a peaceful economic penetration, which 
ends in protectorates and annexations, in defiance of the 
will of those who do not want to be either protected or 
annexed. 

What is rational is real, and what is real is rational, 
said Hegel. 3 He further maintained that civilized 
nations may treat as barbarians peoples who are behind 
them in the " essential elements of the state " ; and also 

3 The Philosophij oj Right, Preface, and see § § 351 and 347. 



334 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

that, in a given epoch, a given nation is dominant, and 
" other existing nations are void of right." 

Hegel has long been dead, and is turned to dust. He 
always was as dry as dust, even when he was alive, but 
he was a great man. But the famous Englishman, Sir 
Thomas More, wrote more engagingly; and does he not 
tell us, in his " Utopia," that any nation's holding unused 
a piece of ground needed for the nourishment of other 
people is a just cause of war? 

Such doctrines should be most comforting to us Ameri- 
cans. They appear to teach us that we are, at present, 
the chosen people; that the rights of other peoples are 
as the rights of the Hivites, the Hittites, and all the 
rest; that we are justified in taking what we please, for 
who is there to withstand us? 

Yet ethical Americans shake their heads over such 
philosophies, and some of them even speak slightingly 
of philosophers. This, in spite of the fact that great 
men seldom talk pure nonsense, except when carried 
away by excitement, as all men may be, at times. 
If what they say sounds to us wholly unmeaning, it is 
probable that we have not fully understood the voice 
that speaks within them. What can be said in their de- 
fense? and what can be said in, at least, partial defence 
of the actual historical procedure of the nations? They 
have not been wholly composed of criminals, and they 
must possess at least the rudiments of a moral sense. 

(1) We have seen that the state maintains its right 
as against those who belong to it by controlling, not by 
destroying, the lesser groups which exist within the state. 
Such a control appears to be demanded by the Rational 
Social Will, but it often frustrates the will of the 
individual. 



INTERNATIONAL ETHICS 335 

(2) We have seen that the spread of the community 
is inevitable, and that, in the interests of rationality, it 
is desirable. 

(3) We have seen that, even in the family, all the 
members are not equally free agents. The small boy 
is not consulted touching the amount of his punishment, 
nor can he dictate where it shall be laid on. And the 
state does not give to all the individuals in it equal 
political rights, nor guarantee to them an equal share 
of influence. This is desirable, on the whole, in the 
interests of the whole, but grave abuses may easily 
come into being. 

(4) We have seen that the greater whole guarantees 
to individuals rights, and assigns to them duties. In 
so far. as it is rational, it cannot do this arbitrarily. To 
have recourse to metaphysical abstractions is futile. 
Shall we say, without hedging, that a man has a right to 
the fruits of his labor, or that first occupation gives a 
right to the soil? Then, shall the man who is too weak to 
work be refused a right to the ownership of a coat? 
Or must the discoverer of a continent prove a real 
occupancy, by performing the ridiculous task of the 
abnormal center of the mythical mathematical infinite 
circle, by being everywhere at the same time? 

(5) We have seen that the human community, taking 
the words in a broad sense, will spread, and already 
has spread, beyond the limits of several nationalities. 
It is in the interest of human society that it should do 
so. It is rational, in the sense of the word everywhere 
used in this book. But the nations continue to exist, 
and they often cultivate selfishly national interests. So 
do families cultivate selfishly family interests. So does 



336 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

the egoist selfishly dig about and fertilize the number 
One. 

(6) It requires little acuteness to see that some com- 
munities of men are miserable exponents of the social 
will. They are deplorably governed. Read Slatin's fas- 
cinating book, " Fire and Sword in the Soudan," — it is 
better than any novel, — and ask yourself what becomes 
of the social will or of rationality of any sort under the 
rule of a Mahdi. Is it not the duty of the nations to 
combine and to relieve suffering humanity? 

(7) There are theorists who maintain that, in the 
nature of things, the soil belongs to nobody. We find, 
in the actual state of things, it usually belongs to some- 
body, unless it is so poor that it is not worth owning at 
all. But it may belong to somebody who can make 
little more use of it than an infant can of a gold watch. 
A handful of Indians, wandering over a great tract of 
country in which they chase game in the intervals of 
time during which they chase and scalp one another, 
may have an immemorial, although unrecorded, title to 
the land. 

Shall they be permitted to keep back settlers from 
more or less civilized and densely populated countries? 
Settlers eager to cultivate the land and to make it support 
many, where before it supported few, and supported those 
few miserably? 

And shall the natural resources of great regions of 
the earth be permitted to lie fallow merely because the 
actual inhabitants are too ignorant and too indolent to 
want to produce anything and to trade? He who finds 
his happiness in idleness, bananas, and black wives who 
can be beaten with impunity, has little interest in inter- 



INTERNATIONAL ETHICS 337 

national traffic, with such blessings as it is supposed 
to bring. 

The world is filling up. The losses due to war and 
pestilence, said no less an authority than Darwin, are 
soon made up. There is something terrifying in what 
the very modern science of geography has to tell us about 
the rapidity with which the remaining part of the earth's 
surface, available for the nourishment of man, is being 
exhausted. What problems will face the Rational Social 
Will in the none too distant future? 

162. The Other Side of the Shield. -*- We have seen 
that something can be said for the philosopher. The 
Rational Social Will does not appear to ' give carte 
blanche to the man who wishes to remain ignorant, idle, 
cut off from the family of the nations, the possessor of 
great tracts of land which he will not develop, the cruel 
oppressor of such as he finds within his power. It tends 
to deal with him, wherever it finds him, as an enlightened 
nation treats the idle, the vicious and the irresponsible 
within its own borders. 

Undoubtedly civilization has made some advance in 
the course of the centuries. When the world is at peace, 
the stranger is not normally an outlaw. I have sojourned 
in the cities of many of the nations of Europe and have 
made excursions into Africa and Asia. Nowhere have 
I been compelled to ask for the protection of an American 
consul. It has been recognized that I had rights, although 
an American. And the ability to sign my name has pro- 
cured me a supply of money. 

Notwithstanding all this, it is depressing to read of the 
dealings of the nations with each other, and with back- 
ward peoples — who have been well defined as peoples 



338 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

who possess gold-mines, but no efficient navy. Is it 
not generally taken for granted that it is the duty of 
more powerful and more enlightened nations to take 
the backward nations in hand, to exploit their resources, 
and, incidentally, to exploit them? 

Not that international law has not counted for some- 
thing. To be sure Hegel reduced it to the level of " a 
good intention," 4 but it has counted for something. 
Descartes and Spinoza could, with impunity, be heretics 
in little Holland. Switzerland has for centuries been 
the refuge of the oppressed. But we cannot forget that 
our highest authority, Captain Mahan, declared, in 1889, 
that certain rights of neutrals were " forever secured, " 5 
and he has since stood revealed as a false prophet, a mere 
man making a guess. International law is a capital 
thing — when it is not put under a strain, and when no 
nation is too powerful. 

The depressing thing is that rapacity and oppression 
become glorified, when the cloak of patriotism is thrown 
over their shoulders. I drew my illustrations in the 
last section from wild Indians and from African savages. 
But there are nations in all stages of their development. 
How " backward " must a nation be to give us the right 
to rule over it by force? No people were more ingenious 
than the ancient Romans in finding plausible reasons 
for the wars which it pleased them to wage. This has 
never been a lost art. Men's enemies are, like the absent, 
always in the wrong; and those are apt to become ene- 
mies, in whose defeat some substantial advantage is to 
be looked for. 

4 The Philosophy oj Right, § § 330-333. 

5 The Influence of Sea Power upon History, Boston, 1908, 
chapter ii, p. 84. 



INTERNATIONAL ETHICS 339 

163. The Solution. — The very title seems a presump- 
tion. Who may dogmatize in matters so involved? 
I make no pretentions to giving a clear vision of " yonder 
shining light," but I venture to hint at the general direc- 
tion in which one is to seek the little wicket gate. 

The only ethical solution of our problem appears to 
lie in the frank recognition of the fact that the groups 
of men, called nations, may be as brutal egoists as are 
individual persons, and in the earnest attempt to avoid 
the baleful influence of such egoism. 

Man is his brother's keeper. But that does not give 
him the right to keep his brother in chains, nor to use 
him for selfish ends. This is as true of nations as it is 
of individuals, of families, of religious orders, or of 
unions, whether of employers or of employees. 

It is certainly true of nations. It is only as having a 
place in, and as being an instrument of, the great organ- 
ism of humanity aimed at by the Rational Social Will, 
that the individual, the family, the tribe, the nation, 
have any ethical justification for being at all. Some- 
times it is very profitable for the individual, or for some 
group of human beings, to disallow this obligation to 
be moral. We treat the individual as a robber; why not 
admit that there are robber nations? 

I feel like reiterating that it is a great thing to be 
young; to live in that Golden Age in which one still 
believes what one sees in print, and still is moved by 
the honeyed words of statesmen. When one is old, and 
has enjoyed some breadth of culture, one has read the 
newspapers of many lands, and has met a certain number 
of statesmen, usually with a start of surprise. 

It is borne in upon one — a, matter touched upon in 



340 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

the last chapter — that it appears to be generally ac- 
cepted that the state and its representatives may adopt a 
peculiar variety of ethics. Certainly statesmen feel jus- 
tified in doing for their country what they, as gentlemen, 
would never dream of doing for themselves. They talk 
of justice, when they would scoff at such justice within 
the borders of their own states; they talk of humanity, 
and they have in mind the economic advantage of their 
own peoples; they speak of protection and Christianiza- 
tion, when they mean economic exploitation or strategic 
superiority. As for truth, the less said about that subject 
the better. 

I know of only one way in which the determination 
of a nation to aid in the general realization of the 
Rational Social Will can be tested. Does it, in dealing 
with other nations, civilized or backward, propose what 
is palpably to its own advantage, or is it evidently disin- 
terested? It is thus that we judge a man, when we wish 
to fix his ethical status ; it is thus that the Rational Social 
Will judges a nation. The language in which the pro- 
posals are made is a matter of no moment. It may 
fairly be called professional slang, and can quickly be 
acquired, even by men of mediocre intelligence, in any 
diplomatic circle. 

164. The Necessity for Caution. — Shall a man, then, 
eschew patriotism, and become a citizen of the world, 
as though he were a Stoic philosopher? By no means. 
As well eschew the family or the neighborhood. But 
let him not, in his patriotism, forget that he is a man. 
Here, as everywhere, he is called upon to exercise 
judgment. This is a burden which he can never throw 
off. He must pay the penalty of being a rational human 



INTERNATIONAL ETHICS 341 

being. As an instrument of the Rational Social Will the 
state must be kept up. It is his duty to see that it is 
done. His cat has an easier task; she may sleep her 
life away in peace. 

We hear much of the brotherhood of man and of arti- 
ficial barriers. The barriers are not all artificial, and 
they cannot be swept away with a gesture. 

Races and peoples are formed upon the model of their 
own immemorial past. They have their institutions, 
their traditions, their loyalties, their standards of living. 
W T hat is tolerable to one man is wholly intolerable to 
another. To compel men to live together in intimacy, 
when centuries of training have made them antipathetic, 
is sheer cruelty. 

Men may be brothers, but there are big brothers and 
little brothers. I do not refer to physical bulk. I refer 
to the development of intelligence, to the degree and kind 
of culture, which has been attained. There are little 
brothers still at the stage of development at which it is 
natural for human beings to drool. Shall we have them 
sit up to the table and serve them with the complete 
dinner, enlivening it with intellectual conversation? 

Between incontinently doing this, and relegating the 
little brothers to a nursery where they will be treated 
with cruelty and starved in our interests, some persons 
seem to think there is no middle course. In their en- 
thusiasm for humanity, they forget that the brotherhood 
of man may be made as ridiculous as the eight -hour 
day. Between eight hours of the creative work of a 
Milton and eight hours of the dawdling done by a lazy 
housemaid, there is no relation save that both may be 
measured by a clock. 



342 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

These enthusiasts forget much. Men are not alike; 
they do not want to be alike; they do not want to 
live together in close intimacy, when they have little in 
common; they reverence different things; as a rule, they 
would rather be somewhat unhappy after their own 
fashion, than be happy under compulsion, after the 
fashion of someone else. 

We have, thus, on the one hand, the enthusiasts who 
would at once sound the trump and announce the mil- 
lenium, feeding the lion and the sucking calf out of the 
same dish and on the same meat. We have, on the other, 
those who are eager to take on their shoulders the white 
man's burden — to enclose in a coop, as if they were 
chickens, the greater part of the human race, allaying 
the discontent of the imprisoned by pointing out to them 
that, although their freedom of movement is limited, 
they are growing fat, and that they should show their 
gratitude by laying eggs. 

Surely, there must be some middle course. Patience 
and caution are virtues. Surely, it is possible to accept 
the existing organism of society, to love one's country, 
and yet to strive to respect the freedom of others. It is 
not easy for a true patriot to do this, but it seems to be 
what the Rational Social Will demands of him. 

The moralist who reads history carefully is not wholly 
discouraged. He may look forward to some time, in the 
more or less distant future, when there may be a union 
of the nations in the interests of all men ; when the gross 
egoism of the hypertrophied patriot may be curbed ; when 
the mellifluous language of the statesman may mean 
more than did the pious letter which Nero wrote to the 
Roman Senate, after he had murdered his mother. 



CHAPTER XXXVI 
ETHICS AND OTHER DISCIPLINES 

165. Sciences that Concern the Moralist. — There are 
certain sciences that the Moralist must lay under contri- 
bution very directly, and yet he seems to be able to make 
little return to those who cultivate them, at least in their 
professional capacity. 

He must ask aid from the biologist, the psychologist, 
the anthropologist. They help him to a comprehension 
of what man is; and, hence, of what it is desirable that 
man should strive to do. But these men seldom come 
to the moralist for advice. They appear to be able to 
work without his help. 

There are, however, other sciences in which the moral- 
ist feels that he has more of a right to meddle, however 
independent they may regard themselves. 

Take, for example, politics or economics, or the very 
modern and rudimentary science of eugenics. The man 
who cultivates political science may know much more 
than do most moralists about states and their forms of 
organization; about legislative, executive and judicial 
functions ; about the probable effects of the centralization 
or decentralization of authority; about what may be 
expected, in a given case, from a restriction or extension 
of the franchise; about the creation and maintenance of 
a military establishment and the building, up of an ef- 

343 



344 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

ficient civil service. The economist may be a monster 
of learning and a master in ingenuity on all problems 
touching the creation and distribution of wealth. 

But the political scientist and the economist, however 
able, share our common humanity. A man's outlook is 
more or less apt to be bounded by the limits of the 
science of his predilection. The several sciences, broader 
or more specialized, rest, in the minds of most men, upon 
foundations which are taken for granted. It is too much 
to expect that every sermon should begin as far back as 
the Garden of Eden. " Practical " politics and economics 
do not, as a rule, go so far back. 

The transition from practical politics and economics 
to ethical problems may be made at any time. No. man 
was shrewder than Machiavelli, and the moral sense of 
mankind has rebelled against him and made him a by- 
word. A state, desirous of maintaining itself, may 
palpably violate in its institutions, inherited from the 
past, a social will grown more rational, more conscious 
of its rights and more articulate. Then the appeal is 
made to right and justice in other than the traditional 
forms. It may, in a given instance, be wrong to create 
wealth; existing forms of its distribution may be iniqui- 
tous. The ultimate arbiter in all such matters must be 
the Ethical Man. 

Human society is indefinitely complex. Many spe- 
cialists must occupy themselves with its problems. A 
technical question in this field may always be carried 
over to moral ground. He who undertakes to make 
this transition without having made a fairly thorough 
study of ethics appears to be working in the dark. His 
assumptions have been questioned, or have been aban- 



ETHICS AND OTHER DISCIPLINES 345 

doned. Who shall furnish him with a new basis for his 
special science? 

Ethics is a basal science. It justifies, or it refuses 
to justify, those specialists who concern themselves with 
men in societies. It is a very old science and has inter- 
ested men vastly. I have spoken above of eugenics as 
a new science. Only in its modern form is it new. Plato 
cultivated it intemperately when he wrote his " Re- 
public " — but he saw that his " Republic " would not do, 
and he wrote his " Laws." He stood condemned by 
Ethics. 

Usually men who occupy themselves seriously, and in 
a broad way, with man in society, have adopted, con- 
sciously or unconsciously, some ethical doctrine. But this 
is often done without due consideration, and without a 
sufficient knowledge of what has been said by the great 
thinkers of the past. It is for this reason that I have 
treated at such length in this volume of the schools of 
the moralists. 

166. Ethics and Philosophy. — It should be observed 
that in developing the Ethics of the Rational Social Will, 
or the Ethics of Reason — the doctrine advocated in this 
volume — I have not depended upon a particular 
philosophy. 

I see' no reason why a Realist or an Idealist, a Monist 
or a Dualist, one who holds to an immediate perception 
of an external world or one who regards our acquaintance 
with it as a matter of inference, should refuse to go with 
me so far. Nor do I see any reason why a believer in 
God, one who bows at the shrine of Mind-Stuff, or one 
who refuses to commit himself at all upon such matters, 
should enter a demurrer. The Parallelist and the Inter- 



346 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

actionist, however widely they differ touching the relation 
of mind and body, may here fall upon one another's 
necks and shed tears of brotherly affection. 

That it is proper for the philosopher to interest himself 
in ethics, I have maintained. 1 He is supposed to be a 
critical and reflective man, and to take broad views of 
human affairs. Such views are needed when one comes 
to the study of ethics. 

I am forced to admit that some philosophers, when they 
have written on ethical subjects, have said certain things 
to which the critical moralist cannot readily assent. 
He who maintains that certain human intuitions — 
which it may even appear impossible to reconcile with 
each other — are inexplicably and infallibly authorita- 
tive, seems to leave us without so much as the hope of 
ever attaining to ultimate rationality. 2 

And there are philosophers who would persuade us 
that, unless we accept all the religious or theological 
doctrines which have appeared to them acceptable, we 
rob man of every incentive for being moral at all. If 
God is not going to repay him with interest for the pains 
which he gives himself, does he not play the part of a 
dupe in being good? We have seen that this was palpably 
the position of Paley. 3 If God will not reconcile, ulti- 
mately, benevolence and self-interest, proclaimed Reid, 
man " is reduced to this miserable dilemma, whether it 
is best to be a fool or a knave. 4 Some of the utterances 

1 See chapter vi, § 18. 

2 See chapter xxiii. 

3 Chapter xxiv, § 96. 

4 Essays on the Active Powers of Man, Essay III, Fart III, 
chapter viii. It would be absurd to believe that either Paley 
or Reid lived down to the level of his doctrine. Both were very 
decent men, and capable of disinterestedness. 



ETHICS AND OTHER DISCIPLINES 347 

of Kant and of Green seem to point in the same direction, 
but both have made it abundantly plain that they, per- 
sonally, and whatever their intellectual perplexities, were 
moved by something much higher than egoism. 5 

I mean to say very little about philosophy in this 
volume. I wish to keep to ethics, a science old enough 
and strong enough to stand upon its own feet. But it 
would be wrong not to underline one or two points in 
this connection, if only to obviate misunderstanding: 

(1) There is nothing wrong in a man's wishing to earn 
the heaven in which he believes. It is not wrong for 
him to wish to be happy on earth and in the body. But 
if the desire for his own happiness, either here or here- 
after, is the only motive that can move him, he is not a 
good man. Prudence may be a virtue, generally speak- 
ing; but it is no substitute for benevolence. The man 
who is only prudent is no fit member of any society of 
rational beings anywhere. 

(2) Men are often better than their words would indi- 
cate. Paley talks as if he were a cad; Reid flounders; 
Kant, noble as are many of his utterances, sometimes 
gives forth an uncertain sound. Yet no one of these 
men was personally selfish. 

And yet all of these men assumed that morality is 
endangered unless there is a God to repay men for being 
good. Why did they insist so strenuously upon this, 
and incorporate it into their philosophy? We must, I 
think, go beneath the surface to find the real reason; 
and when we have discovered it, we cannot regard them 
in an unfavorable light. 

They felt, I believe, that good men ought to be made 
5 See chapters xxiv, § 97; xxvi, 3; and xxix. 



348 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

happy ; that this is rational, if anything is. So far, they 
are quite in accord with the doctrine of the Rational 
Social Will. And they saw no other way of guaranteeing 
a complete rationality than in holding to a theistic 
philosophy. 

(3) This means that their real motives were not selfish 
and personal. This is admirably brought out when we 
turn to Green. It is too much to expect that many of 
my readers have read his " Prolegomena to Ethics," 
which is repetitious, tedious, and rather vague, though 
it is inspired by a fine spirit and has the great merit of 
having influenced, directly or indirectly, a number of 
able writers to produce excellent works on ethics. 6 

Green dwells, with infinite repetition, upon the presence 
in man " of a principle not natural," which is identical 
in all men,, and which, in some way that he does not ex- 
plain, holds the world of our experiences together, being 
itself not in time or in space. The disciple of Paley 
or Reid or Kant will search his pages in vain for any 
indication that this " principle " performs or can perform 
any of the functions of the God believed in by the above- 
mentioned philosophers. Nevertheless, it is the source 
of an ardent inspiration to Green, who relieves the bald- 
ness of the appellation " principle," by calling it, some- 
times, " self-consciousness," sometimes, " reason." It 
does not appear to promise Green anything, so his devo- 
tion to it may be regarded as disinterested. However, 
he owes to it inspiration. 

Philosophers find their inspiration in very different 
directions. The philosopher, as such, sometimes rather 

6 I need only to refer to the text-books by Muirhead, Mac- 
kenzie, Dewey and Fite. 



ETHICS AND OTHER DISCIPLINES 349 

objects to the word, " God." 7 But he may feel much 
as men generally feel toward God, when he contemplates 
his " Conscious Principle," or his " Idea," or the " Sub- 
stance " which he conceives as the identity of thought 
and extension, or, for that matter, " Mind-Stuff " or 
the " Unknowable." That other men may not see that 
he has anything in particular to be inspired about, or 
that he can hope for anything in particular for himself 
or for other men, does not rob him of his inspiration, 
and that may affect his life deeply. 

It is, hence, not a matter of no importance to ethics 
what manner of philosophy it pleases a man to elect. 
One's outlook upon the great world may repress or may 
stimulate ethical strivings, may narrow or may broaden 
the ethical horizon. It is something to feel, even rather 
blindly, that one has a Cause. For myself, I think it is 
better to have a Cause that seems worth while, even 
when rather impartially looked at. But, of this, more 
in the next section. 

(4) Whatever one thinks of such matters, it is well 
to come back to the fact that, nevertheless, ethics stands 
upon its own feet. Even if Paley, and Reid, and Kant, 
and Green, and many others, are in the wrong, the doc- 
trine of the Rational Social Will stands sure. It is wrong 
to be selfish; it is wrong to be untruthful; it is wrong 
to be unjust. It is wrong for individuals, and it is 
wrong for nations. The man, or the group of men, that 
does wrong, is irrational. It stands condemned. 

167. Ethics and Religion. — I regret having to speak, 
in this book, about religion at all, just as I regret hav- 
ing to refer to the philosophers. But it would be folly 
7 See chapter xxvi, § 123, note. 



350 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

to omit all reference to religious duties. They have 
played quite too important a part in the life of the 
family, of the tribe, of the state; and that not merely 
here and there, but everywhere, in societies of all de- 
grees of development, in recent centuries and in times 
of a hoary antiquity. Those interested in the classics 
have read the remarkable little book, " The Ancient 
City," by Fustel de Coulanges. As schoolboys we were 
brought up on the pious Aeneas. All Christians have 
some knowledge of the theocratic state of the Hebrews, 
and we know something of the history of Christian 
Europe. The anthropologist gives us masses of informa- 
tion touching the religious duties of all sorts and con- 
ditions of men. 

There are those who rid themselves easily of the 
problem of religious duties. They simply deny that 
there are any. And there are those — the classes over- 
lap — who easily shuffle off duties to the family and to 
the state. They regard it as their function to ignore 
and to destroy. 

(1) I cannot think the matter is so simple. There 
always have been religious duties generally recognized, 
as a matter of fact. The boldest and most gifted of 
thinkers, who have not hesitated to call into being 
Utopian schemes for an ideal state, such men as Plato 
and More, have thought that the ideal state must have 
a religion. And the modern scientist has gravely raised 
the question whether the state can maintain itself, if 
all religious beliefs, with their inspirations and their 
restraints, die out. 8 

The moralist, who accepts religious duties, has a 

8 McDougall, Social Psychology, chapter xiii. 



ETHICS AND OTHER DISCIPLINES 351 

difficult task. It is not enough for him to say that men 
have religious duties " in general," just as it is not enough 
for him to say that they have political duties " in 
general." On the other hand it would be the height of 
presumption for him to endeavor to tell every man what 
he should do in detail. He does not feel it his duty to 
tell every man whom he should marry, or for whom he 
should vote at each election. Still, it does seem as 
though the moralist ought to do more than tell a man 
vaguely that he has religious duties. 

(2) Why not follow the analogy suggested by duties 
to the family, the neighborhood, the state? 

States have their religions, sometimes unequivocally 
and unmistakably, and sometimes not so palpably. The 
religion of a people has, as a rule, its roots far back in 
the history of that people. Its religion has influenced 
in many subtle ways its institutions, its emotions, its 
habits, its whole outlook upon life. 

Even where, as with us, state and church have been, 
in theory, wholly sundered, there has been no question, 
up to the present, of the disappearance of a religion. 
The United States has been regarded as a Christian 
nation, inspired by ideals and addicted to customs only 
explicable by a Christian past. 

The fact that it is so is somewhat obscured to us. For 
this there are two causes. The first is, that the Ameri- 
can, who is a freeman, possesses and exercises a fatal 
ingenuity in the creation of a multitude of sects out of 
practically nothing. Still, most of these sects have more 
in common than some of their adherents suppose. They 
spring, as a rule, from a Christian root. The second is, 
that our land has been the goal of the greatest migration 



352 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

ever recorded in human history. Most of those who 
have come to us have, so far, come from nations in some 
sense Christian, but they have brought with them very 
diverse traditions, and some appear to object to tra- 
ditions altogether. 

Nevertheless, I think we may be called a Christian 
nation, and if we follow the analogy above suggested — 
that of the relations of men to the state and to lesser 
organisms within the state — it would appear that it 
is the duty of an American to recognize himself as a 
Christian rather than as a Mahometan or a Pagan. If he 
does recognize this, he will feel himself under certain 
obligations which are independent of his personal tastes 
and proclivities. 

(3) For one thing, he will recognize that a religion 
is not a thing to be stripped off and drawn on as one 
changes a suit of clothes. 

A woman may regret that her infant has red hair. 
She will not, on that account, as a rule, exchange him 
surreptitiously for another. Men do not commonly 
repudiate their fathers because they are not rich or 
are growing old. A good citizen may regret that his 
country has seen fit to enter into a given war, but he 
will not, therefore, give aid or comfort to the enemy. 

He who is capable of lightly repudiating his religion 
resembles the man who is capable of discarding his wife, 
when he sees the first grey hair. Those who do such 
things are apt to be men who fill their whole field of 
vision with their rights, and can find no place there 
for their duties. Nor should it be overlooked that the 
man, who is capable of lightly discarding his wife, is 
the man as capable of supplying her place with a worse. 



ETHICS AND OTHER DISCIPLINES 353 

Even so, he who easily throws off his religion is usually 
the man who easily replaces it with some superstition, 
scientific or merely whimsical, at which other men 
wonder. 

Men lament sometimes over the fact that the task of 
the foreign missionary is a hard one. Were it really an 
easy, one, there would be no stability in human societies, 
for there would be no stability in human nature. The 
man of light credulity is the man who easily takes on 
new faiths; not the man to whom tradition and loyalty 
mean something. 

(4) It seems to follow, as a corollary, that the religion 
in which a man has been brought up has the first claim 
upon him. I accept this without hesitation. 

But this does not mean that the claim is in all cases 
final and valid. 

There may be cases in which it seems to be the duty 
of a man to leave his wife, to disinherit a child, to 
transfer his allegiance from one state to another. Such 
cases are recognized as justifiable by men who are 
thoughtful and disinterested. But the same men also 
recognize that, were such disruptions of the bonds which 
unite men in communities the rule and not the exception, 
it would mean the destruction of the community. 
Similarly, it may become the duty of a man to transfer 
his allegiance from one church to another. 

Are not religions, rationally compared, of different 
values? Have there not been religions indisputably on 
a moral level lower than that of the community which 
they represent? Undoubtedly. 

And there have been governments so bad that the 
only refuge has seemed to lie in revolution. It should be 



354 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

remembered, however, that revolutions can be resorted to 
too lightly ; and that evolution, where possible, is prefer- 
able to revolution, whether in things secular or in things 
religious. It is always easier to tear down than it is 
to build up. Nor does anyone, save the anarchist, tear 
down through wanton love of destruction. Even he is 
apt to feel called upon to give some sort of a vague 
excuse for his violence. 

It will be observed that I have all along spoken, not 
merely of religion, but of the Church. I have done this 
because religion is a social phenomenon. It has its 
institutions, and cannot live without them. 

It cannot be denied that individual philosophers have 
evolved religious philosophies; it cannot be denied that 
solitary individuals, as such, have felt religious emotions. 
How much of this is due to the fact that there have been 
religions and churches, I do not believe that they 
themselves have realized. 

But, if religion is to be a vital force of any sort in a 
state, holding up ideals and stimulating the emotion that 
helps to realize them, it must be incorporated in an 
institution or in institutions. You cannot remove the 
rose and keep the perfume. Even the memory of it 
tends to vanish. A religious man without a church is 
like a citizen without a state. A citizen without a state 
is a man who makes the effort to keep step, and to 
walk in single file, all alone. 

(5) Having said so much for Religion and for the 
Church, it is right that I should refer to some things 
that may be said on the other side. 

It may be claimed that men of science have a tendency 
to turn away from religion and to grow indifferent to or 



ETHICS AND OTHER DISCIPLINES 355 

to deny religious duties. In this there is some truth, 
although notable exceptions to the rule may be cited. 

But I have known many men of learning in two hemi- 
spheres, in some cases rather intimately. With the utmost 
respect for their learning and for their mental ability, 
I am still bound to say that I have found them quite 
human. Some of them — among the greatest of them — 
have been so absorbed in their special fields of investiga- 
tion, that they have not merely given scant attention 
to religion and to religious duties, but have done scant 
justice even to their own family life or to the state. 
And all have not been equally broad men, capable of 
seeing clearly the part which religion has played in the 
life of humanity. 

To this I must add that the impartial objectivity with 
which the scholar is supposed by the layman to view 
things is something of a chimera. In saying this I 
criticize no one more severely than I criticize myself. 
This may be taken as my apology for the utterance. 
Have we not seen, not many years since, that, in the 
feeling aroused by an international conflict, some scores 
of great scholars on the one side found it possible to 
write and to sign a series of statements diametrically 
opposed to a series drawn up and signed by some scores 
of equally famous scholars on the other? Was either 
group walled in hopelessly by sheer ignorance? It is 
easy to take lightly matters about which one does not 
particularly care. 

There is another objection brought against religion 
and the church which seems to be more significant. 
Is there not a danger that an interest in these may 
hamper freedom of thought and encourage an undue 
conservatism? 



356 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

It should be borne in mind that religion and the church 
are not the only forces that make for conservatism. 
Family affection is conservative ; the law is conservatism 
itself, and men feel that it should not be lightly tampered 
with. How impartial and how ready to introduce 
innovations should men be in any field? Changes of 
certain kinds, though they may have no little bearing 
upon our comfort, do not threaten the existence of either 
state or church. Could someone devise a scheme by 
which the periodical visits of the plumber could be 
avoided, we should all welcome it, and have no fear of 
the consequences. 

Other innovations may bring in their train conse- 
quences more momentous. What men deeply care about, 
they cling to, and the question which confronts us is a 
very broad one. Does humanity, on the whole, gain 
or lose by a given degree of conservatism? An increase 
of knowledge is by no means the only thing that makes 
for civilization. Men may be highly enlightened, and 
yet rotten to the very core. How much of the ballast of 
conservatism and of loyalty to tradition is it well to 
throw overboard in the interest of accelerated motion? 
Those who, in our judgment, throw overboard much too 
much we have taken to deporting. 

(6) Here it will very likely be objected: In all this 
you are advocating sheer Pragmatism! Are we to accept 
God and look for a life to come, extending the spread 
of the community after the fashion suggested in Chapter 
XIX, and broadening the outlook for a future and more 
perfect rationality, for no better reason than that it is 
our whim? Shall we believe and join ourselves with 
other believers, for no better reason than that something 
happens to tempt our will? 



ETHICS AND OTHER DISCIPLINES 357 

I beg the reader, if he will be just to my thought, to 
follow me here with close attention. 

168. Ethics and Belief. — Under this heading I must 
call attention to several points. 

(1) I deny that I advocate Pragmatism at all. The 
views which I advocate are so many thousand years 
older than Pragmatism, that it seems unjust to them, at 
this late date, to compel them to take on a new name, 
and to be carried about in swaddling clothes in the arms 
of the philosophers, after they have been functioning as 
adults in human communities from time immemorial. 

(a) That abounding genius and most lovable man, 
William James, realizing, as many lesser men did not 
realize, that the truth contained in such views was in 
danger of being lost sight of by many, wrote, with 
characteristic vivacity and unerring dramatic instinct, 
the little volume called " Pragmatism." It is with no 
lack of appreciation of the services he has rendered, that 
I venture to call attention to the fact that he has, in 
certain respects, failed to do justice to those views. 

(b) Pragmatism has received attention partly on 
account of the exaggerations of which it has been guilty. 
These have repelled some men of sober mind. It appears 
to be maintained that we can play fast and loose with 
the world, and make it what we will. I have criticized 
this elsewhere, 9 and shall not do so now. I shall only say 
here that I do not believe that so able a man of science 
as William James meant all that he said to be taken quite 
literally. He was gifted with a sense of humor. This, 
some lack. 

(c) Men of genius are apt to be strongly individual- 

9 The World We Live In, chapter vi. 



358 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

istic and impatient of restraints. We have seen that 
there is such a thing as a public conscience and a private 
conscience. The latter is only too often a whimsical 
thing. Pragmatism appears to teach that any indi- 
vidual, as such, has a moral right to adopt any hypoth- 
esis live enough to appeal to his individual will. One 
has only to call to mind the extraordinary assortment 
of guests collected by Signor Papini in his novel prag- 
matic " hotel." 10 Can such, by any human ingenuity, 
be moulded into anything resembling an orderly 
community? 

(d) In a later work, Professor James, realizing that 
religion and theology are not identical, and strongly 
desirous of promoting religion, deals severely with the- 
ology and the theologians. 11 

One truth has been seen, but has not another been 
treated with some injustice? Is it not inevitable that 
reflective men, who cherish beliefs, should endeavor to 
give a more or less clear and reasoned account of them? 
What degree of success is to be looked for, and what 
emphasis should be laid upon such attempts, are 
questions which will probably divide men for a long 
time to come. 

(2) Hence, I do not advocate Pragmatism at all, but 
I agree with it in so far, at least, as to recognize that 
belief is a phenomenon which concerns the will. That 
it is so is a commonplace of psychology; and it was 
recognized dimly long before the psychologist, as such, 
came into being. 

That it is so is rather readily overlooked where the 

i° Ibid. 

11 Varieties of Religious Experience, Lecture xviii. 



ETHICS AND OTHER DISCIPLINES 359 

evidence for certain beliefs is undeniable and overpower- 
ing. I seem forced to believe that I am now writing. 
I do not seem forced in a similar manner to accept a 
particular metaphysical doctrine or a given system of 
theological dogma. Intelligent men appear to be able 
to discuss such matters with each other and to agree to 
disagree. If they are tolerant, they can do this good- 
temperedly. It is worth while to keep several points 
clearly in mind: 

(a) Beliefs are not a matter of indifference. Some 
evidently lead to palpable and speedy disaster. If I 
elect to believe that I can fly, and leave my window-sill 
as lightly as does the sparrow I now see there, it is 
time for my friends to provide me with an attendant. 

Other beliefs are not of this character. And that they 
will lead to ultimate disaster of any sort to myself or 
to others seems highly disputable. 

(6) What may be called scientific evidence may be 
adduced for different beliefs with varying degrees of 
cogency. Hegel tries to distinguish between the au- 
thority of the state and that of the church by attributing 
to the former something like infallibility. He maintains 
that religion " believes," but that the state " knows." 12 

We have had abundant reason to see that the state 
does not know, but believes, and that it is very often 
mistaken in its beliefs. Nevertheless, it does its best to 
keep order, to be as rational as it can, and to look a little 
way ahead. I think it ought to be admitted that it con- 
cerns itself with matters more terre-a-terre than does 
the church ; and that it ought not to be taken as a general 
truth that the state should take its orders from the 

12 The Philosophy of Right, §270. 



360 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

church. It has to do with matters which, like our daily 
bread, must be assured, if certain other matters are to 
be considered at all. In so far Hegel was right. There 
are those who forget this, and talk as if metaphysical 
systems and religious beliefs should be forced upon men 
in spite of themselves, either by sheer force of wind- 
power or with the aid of the police. 

To this it may be added that beliefs range from an 
unshakable and unthinking conviction to that degree of 
acquiescence which can scarcely be distinguished from 
mere loyalty. It remains to be proved that the latter 
may not come under the head of belief, and is something 
to be condemned. 13 

(c) Beliefs, being phenomena which concern the will, 
are at the mercy of many influences. Is there any 
scientific evidence open to the parallelist in psychology 
which is not also open to the interactionist? Is the 
conviction that one's country is in the right a mere matter 
of scientific evidence? Are the enlightened adherents 
of a given sect wholly ignorant of the tenets and of the 
arguments of another? 

I maintain that tradition and loyalty have their claims. 
They are not the only claims that can be made, but they 
are worthy of serious consideration. Man is man, 
whether he is dealing with things secular or with things 
religious. 

13 More than thirty years ago, while I was the guest of Henry 
Sidgwick at Cambridge, England, I asked him how it was that 
he, the President of the British Society for Psychical Research, 
had never, in his presidential addresses, expressed a belief in 
the phenomena investigated. He answered that if the word 
" belief " were taken broadly enough to express a willingness to 
look into things, he might be said to believe. No more candid 
soul ever breathed. 



ETHICS AND OTHER DISCIPLINES 361 

To see that such claims are recognized everywhere 
we have only to open our eyes. It is absurd to believe 
that all the adherents of a political party are influenced 
only by the logical arguments published in the news- 
papers. A newspaper that lived on logic alone would 
starve to death. It is ridiculous to believe that all the 
members of a church are induced to become such only by 
the arguments of the theologians, many of which argu- 
ments the mass of the members are not in a position to 
comprehend at all. 

And learned men are men, too. The philosopher who 
really kept himself free from all prepossessions would, 
if he did much serious reading, probably epitomize in his 
own person a large part of the history of philosophy, 
falling out of one system and into another, like an acro- 
bat. But he is usually caught young and influenced by 
some teacher, or he is carried away by some book or by 
the spirit of the times. As he is not an abnormal 
creature, he acts like other men, becoming an adherent 
of a school, or, if he is ambitious, starting one. 

(d) We have seen that the individual has duties 
toward the state. We have also seen that the state 
has duties toward the individual. The state should 
not make it practically impossible for him to be a loyal 
citizen. A somewhat similar duty appears to be 
incumbent upon the church. 

A church that forces upon all of its members, as a 
condition of membership, intricate and abstract systems 
of metaphysics; a church that does not teach good-will 
toward men, but makes walls of separation out of slight 
differences of opinion; a church that lags behind the 
moral sense of the community in which it finds itself; 



362 THE ETHICS OF THE SOCIAL WILL 

a church that starves the religious life; these, and such 
as these, must expect to lose adherents. It is not that 
men reject them; it is that they reject men. 

Those who read history have no reason to think that 
men, except here and there and under exceptional circum- 
stances, will cease to regard religious duties as duties. 
I have not ventured to offer any detailed solution of the 
problem of loyalty to the church. But neither have 
I ventured to offer any detailed solution of the problem of 
loyalty to the state. In the one case, as in the other, I 
suggest as guides tradition, intuition and reflective 
reasoning. I can only counsel good sense and some 
degree of patience. It may be said: You do not solve 
the difficulty for the individual. I admit it. Such dif- 
ficulties every thinking man must meet and solve for 
himself. 

169. The Last Word. — Those persons, whether stu- 
dents, or teachers, who dislike this final chapter, may 
omit it, without detriment to the rest of the book. The 
doctrine of the Rational Social Will is not founded upon 
this chapter. The latter is a mere appendix. 

I regret that, in a work in which I have wished to 
avoid disputation, I have felt compelled to touch upon 
religious duties at all. But they have played, and still 
play, so significant a role in the history of mankind, 
that the omission could scarcely have been made. You 
are free to take them or leave them; but you are not 
free to take or leave the Rational Social Will as the 
Moral Arbiter of the Destinies of Man. 



NOTES 

1. Chapters I to III. — The notes in a book of any sort are 
rarely read, except by a few specialists, and by them not seldom 
with a view to refuting the author. I shall make the following as 
brief as I may. But I do wish to give some of my readers — all 
will not be equally learned — an opportunity to get acquainted 
with a few books better than this one. This first note is not 
addressed to the learned, and some will find it superfluous. 

I intend to mention here a handful of books which any culti- 
vated man may read with profit, and re-read with profit, if he 
has already read them. They can be collected gradually at a 
relatively slight expense, and it is a pleasure to have them in 
one's library. The list may easily be bettered, and may be 
indefinitely lengthened. I mention only books for those who 
are accustomed to do their reading in English. 

It is hardly necessary to say that I do not advise all this 
reading in connection with the first three chapters of this book. 
But, as those chapters are concerned with the accepted content 
of morals as recognized by individuals and communities, I have 
a good excuse for bringing the list in here. Many other good 
books, not in the list, are referred to later in the volume, in 
other chapters. 

It is very convenient to have within one's reach some such 
book as Sidgwick's History of Ethics. The only fault to find 
with Sidgwick is that he has made his book too short, and has 
not given enough references. But he is admirably fair and 
sympathetic, as well as clear and interesting. 

He, who would dip more deeply into the Greek moralists, can 
read the accounts of the ancient egoists, Aristippus and Epicurus, 
in the Lives of the Philosophers by that entertaining old gossip, 
Diogenes Laertius. The translation in Bonn's edition will serve 
the purpose. 

As for the greatest of the Greeks — a keen pleasure, intellect- 
ual and aesthetic, awaits the man who turns to Plato's Republic 

363 



364 NOTES 

and his Laws. Jowett's great translation is in every public 
library. And we must read Aristotle's Nichomachean Ethics and 
his Politics. Here little attention is given to artistic form; but 
the preternatural acuteness of the man is overpowering. If we 
would understand some of the reasons which induced Plato 
and Aristotle to write of the state as they did, we can turn 
to chapter xiv of Grote's Aristotle. 

With certain later classical moralists most of us are more 
or less familiar. Seneca, in his work On Benefits, gives a good 
picture of the moral emotions and judgments of an enlightened 
man of his time. He was a great favorite with Christian 
writers later. Cicero's work, De Officiis — On Duties — it is best 
known under the Latin title, is very clear and very clever. It 
is, in its last half, full of " cases of conscience." I venture to 
suggest to the teacher of undergraduates who find ethics a dry 
subject, that he give them a handful of Cicero's "cases" to 
quarrel over. Doing just this has brought about something 
resembling civil war in certain classes of my undergraduates. It 
has done them good, and it has vastly entertained me. But 
each teacher must follow his own methods. We can none of 
us dictate. 

How many of us have drawn inspiration from the noble reflec- 
tions contained in the Thoughts of Marcus Aurelius and in the 
Discourses of Epictetus, those great Stoics! The unadorned 
translations of George Long will serve to introduce us to these. 

To get a good idea of how the moral world revealed itself to a 
Father of the Church in the fifth century, we have only to turn 
to that most fascinating of autobiographies, the Confessions of 
St. Augustine. His City of God is too long, though interesting. 
Augustine's thought influenced the world for centuries. Then we 
may take a long jump and come down to St. Thomas, the great 
Scholastic of the thirteenth century. To get acquainted with 
him, we may turn to the English versions by Rickaby, Aquinas 
Ethicus. Those of us who are smugly satisfied at belonging to 
the twentieth century must remind ourselves that there were 
great men in the thirteenth, and that many among our con- 
temporaries are still listening to them. We Protestant teachers 
of philosophy are sometimes in danger of forgetting this. A 
strictly fresh century and a strictly fresh egg cannot claim to be 
precisely on a par. 

I do not think that I shall add the modern moralists to this 



NOTES 365 

list. There are a great many of them, and many of them are 
very good. But they are discussed at length in Part VII, which 
deals with the schools of the moralists. Citations and references 
are there given. I think, however, that I ought to add here that 
I should regard an ethical collection incomplete that did not 
include at least one of the comprehensive works on morals lately 
offered us by certain sociologists. Westermarck's wonderful book 
— a mine of information — on The Origin and Development of 
the Moral Ideas, or the admirable book by Hobhouse, Morals in 
Evolution, will serve to fill the gap. 

Information regarding editions of all the books I have men- 
tioned can be had in most public libraries, or from any good 
publisher and book-seller. 

As for the reading to accompany these Chapters, I— III, I sug- 
gest looking over the chapters by Westermarck and Hobhouse, 
indicated in foot-notes. He who would realize how men have 
differed in their moral outlook on life might read the lives of 
Aristippus, Epicurus and Zeno, in Diogenes Laertius; or follow 
the account, in Sidgwick's History of Ethics, of Aristotle's teach- 
ing, as compared with the ethics of the Church. 

2. Chapters IV to VII. — These chapters on ethics as science 
and on ethical method do. not appear to me to call for extensive 
notes. Several foot-notes are given which might be followed up. 
I think it would be a very good thing for the student to read 
chapters i and vi in Sidgwick's admirable work, The Methods of 
Ethics. 

3. Chapters VIII to X. — To undertake to give any adequate 
list of references on the chapters which treat of man's nature 
and of his material and social environment would take us quite 
too far afield. I merely suggest looking up the articles on 
" Anthropology " and " Sociology " in the Encyclopedia Britan- 
nica. References are given there. And one should not overlook 
Darwin's great book on The Descent of Man. It will never be 
rendered superfluous, although the men of our day criticize it 
in detail. A recent work of value is " Heredity and Environ- 
ment in the Development of Men," by Professor Edwin Grant 
Conklin, 1918. 

4. Chapters XI to XVI. — Here my notes must be somewhat 
more detailed, for we are on quite debatable ground. At any rate, 
there is much dispute, between men of unquestionable ability, 
on the one side and on the other. I may be pardoned for thinking 



366 NOTES 

that the general argument of these chapters is reasonable and 
sound. 

In commenting upon Chapter XI, I suggest that the reader 
look up what Hobhouse has to say on impulse, desire and will, 
in his volume, Morals in Evolution; also that he consult the 
same topics in James' Psychology. McDougalPs Social Psychol- 
ogy might be read with much profit. 

Some admirable writers have a repugnance to using the word 
" volition " in speaking of the brutes. I cannot help thinking 
that this is a dispute touching the proper use of a word, rather 
than that any important distinction in kind is marked. Some 
human volitions stand out very clearly as such. There are free 
ideas present, there is the tension of desires, there is delibera- 
tion, and there is clearly conscious choice, or the final release of 
tension. But how many of the decisions — I see no objection 
to the word, — which we make during the course of a day, are 
of this character! It would be difficult to set a lower limit to 
volition. 

Muirhead, who writes, in his Elements of Ethics, clearly and 
well of desires, emphasizing the presence of " tensions," follows 
the Neo-Hegelian tradition in speaking of will. He describes it 
as the act by which the attention is concentrated upon one object 
of desire, and he calls the act of choice the identifying oj oneself 
with one object or line of action. 

Naturally, it is not easy to think of the bee or the ant or the 
spider, perhaps not even of the cat or dog, as " identifying itself " 
with some object of desire. I suggest that the reader, after a 
perusal of Muirhead, reflect upon what Hobhouse has to say of 
the lower animals; or that he look up Miss Washburn's book on 
The Animal Mind, (second edition, 1918), where a really serious 
study of the brute is undertaken. 

On Chapter XII, I find no comment necessary. As to Chapter 
XIII, I recommend to the reader a reading or re-reading of the 
fascinating pages in which James treats of instinct in his 
Psychology. And let him look up the same subject in 
McDougall's Social Psychology. At the same time, I enter a 
note of warning against reading even such good writers uncriti- 
cally. There is no little dispute in this field. Dr. H. R. 
Marshall's volume Mind and Conduct gives an unusually thought- 
ful account of instinct (N. Y., 1919). 

Comment on Chapter XIV is not imperatively necessary. But 



NOTES 367 

I must speak with detail of Chapter XV, for the best of men 
quarrel when they come upon this ground: 

§ 49. The psychologist takes into his mouth no word more 
ambiguous than " feeling." It may be used to indicate any 
mental content whatever — John Stuart Mill could speak 
of consciousness as composed of a string of feelings. Herbert 
Spencer divided conscious processes into " feelings " and " relations 
between feelings." James obliterates the distinction, and finds 
it possible to speak of " a feeling of and, a feeling of if, a feeling 
of but," etc. (Psychology I, p. 154, ff.). 

Some writers do not distinguish between emotions" and feelings. 
Thus, Darwin, in his Descent of Man, calls pleasure and pain 
" emotions." Marshall (op. cit., chapter ii) makes emotions, 
and even intuitions, " instinct-feelings." Dewey, in his Ethics 
(p. 251), appears to treat emotions as synonymous with feelings. 
Gardiner, in his interesting and careful study, Affective Psychology 
in Ancient Writers after Aristotle (Psychological Review. May, 
1919), treats of " what are popularly called the feelings, including 
emotions." 

On the other hand, in ethical writings the word, " feelings," 
very often means no more than pleasure and pain. Thus, Seth 
(A Study of Ethical Principles, p. 63), makes feelings synony- 
mous with pleasure and pain. Muirhead (Elements of Ethics, 
p. 46) , says, " by feeling is meant simply pleasure and pain " ; 
and to have " interest " in, he defines as to have pleasure in 
(p. 46). 

This narrowing of the meaning of the word on the part of 
ethical writers is, perhaps, natural. The hedonistic moralists 
made pleasure and pain the only ultimate reasonable stimulants 
to action. Many moralists opposed them (see, later, Chapters 
XXIV and XXV). So pleasure and pain became "the feelings," 
par excellence. Both Dewey and Alexander sometimes speak 
as if, by the word " feeling," we meant no more than pleasure 
and pain. So does Kant. 

The modern psychologist sometimes distinguishes pleasure and 
pain from " agreeableness " and " disagreeableness." Marshall, 
a high authority on pleasure and pain, refuses to draw the dis- 
tinction (op. cit., Part III. chapter vi). But he also refuses to 
call pleasure and pain sensations, regarding them as " qualifica- 
tions of our sensations," like intensity, duration, and the like. 

Are pleasures, as pleasures, alike? and are pains, as pains, 



368 NOTES 

alike? Jeremy Bentham refused to distinguish between kinds of 
pleasures. On the other hand, John Stuart Mill did so (see 
Chapter XXV in this volume) ; and S. Alexander, in his work en- 
titled Moral Order and Progress, maintains that pleasures differ 
in kind, and cannot be compared merely in their intensity (see 
page 202). 

The whole matter is complicated enough, and there is occupa- 
tion for the most disputatious. But I do not think that these 
disputes very directly affect the argument of my chapter. 

§ 50. That there is a relation between feeling and action, but 
that the two are by no means nicely adjusted to each other, has 
been recognized in many quarters. 

Darwin, discussing the mental and moral qualities of man, 
points out that the satisfaction of some fundamental instincts 
gives little pleasure, although uneasiness is suffered if they are 
not satisfied. Seth (op. cit., p. 64) says that feelings " guide " 
action; and he claims that the energy of a moving idea lies in 
the feeling which it arouses (p. 70). On the quantity of emo- 
tion, and its relation to action, see Stephen, The Science of 
Ethics, ii, iii, 25. 

§51. It appears to be repugnant to Green to admit 
that feeling — pleasure — can be the direct object of action; 
and he' denies roundly that a sum of pleasures can be 
made an object of desire and will at all (Prolegomena to Ethics, 
§221; see §113 of this book). Moreover, he maintains, and in 
this Dewey follows him, that the making of pleasure an object 
is evidence of the existence of unhealthy desires. I cannot but 
think this, taken generally, an exaggeration. Of course, what 
is called " a man of pleasure " is a pretty poor sort of a thing. 

§ 52. In this section I do not touch at all upon the im- 
memorial dispute concerning what has been called " the ' free- 
dom ' of the will." 

Indeed, I leave it out of this book altogether. The moralist 
must, I think, assume that man has natural impulses and is a 
rational creature. Those who are interested in the problem 
above mentioned, may turn to my Introduction to Philosophy, 
chapter xi, § 46, where the matter is discussed, and references 
(in the corresponding note) are given. 

Chapter XVI. — The matter cf this chapter appears clear 
enough, but it may be well to give a few references touching 
the two conceptions of the functions of Reason. 



NOTES 369 

Men of quite vaiying views have inclined to the doctrine 
which appeals to me. I think it is to be gotten out of Hegel. 
Green, who is much influenced by him, takes, as the rational end 
of conduct, a " satisfaction on the whole," which implies a har- 
monization and unification of the desires (see, in this book, Chap- 
ter XXVI, § 122). Spencer, in his Study of Sociology, defines 
the rational as the consistent. Stephen, in his Science oj Ethics, 
chapter ii, § 3, says : " Reason, in short, whatever its nature, 
is the faculty which enables us to act with a view to the distant 
and the future." He claims that rationality tends to bring about 
a certain unity or harmony. Hobhouse, Morals in Evolution, 
(pp. 572-581), says that reason harmonizes the impulses. 

The champions of the opposite view are the intuitionists 
proper — such men as Kant, Reid, Price, even Sidgwick. To 
judge of their doctrine — they were great men, be it remem- 
bered, and worthy of all respect — I suggest that the reader 
wait until he has read the chapter on Intuitionism in this volume, 
Chapter XXIII. 

5. Chapters XVII to XIX. — What is said in Chapter XVII 
seems too obviously true to need comment. Indeed, it may be 
questioned whether the chapter is not full of platitudes. But 
even platitudes are overlooked by some ; and there is some merit 
in arranging them systematically. Besides, they may serve as 
a spring-board. 

As to Chapter XVIII, I suggest reading chapter vii, of 
Westermarck's book on The Origin and Development of the, 
Moral Ideas. It is entitled Customs and Laws as Expressions 
of Moral Ideas. 

For Chapter XIX, one may read Hobhouse, Morals in Evolu- 
tion, Part I, chapter vi, where he shows how the mere " group 
morality " gradually gives place to a wider morality in which 
the concept of humanity plays a part. In the same work, Part 
II, chapters i and ii, the author treats of religious or sub-religious 
ideas as affecting conduct. Compare Westermarck, op. cit., 
chapter xl. See, also, The Ancient City, by Fustel de Coulanges. 

6. Chapters XX to XXII. — What is said in Chapter XX may 
be well reinforced by turning to Hobhouse (op. cit.), Part I, 
chapter iii, where he traces the gradual evolution of rational 
morality in the field of justice. See, also, Westermarck, (op. 
cit.) chapters ix and x, i. e., " The Will as the Subject of Moral 
Judgment and the Influence of External Events," and " Agents 



370 NOTES 

under Intellectual Disability." In the last chapter referred to, 
animals, drunkards, idiots, the insane, etc., come on the stage. 
The chapter is full of curious information. 

In Chapter XXI (§86), I have spoken of the hesitating utter- 
ances of moralists touching any duties we may owe to the brutes. 
I suggest that before anyone dogmatize in detail on this sub- 
ject he read with some care such a comprehensive work as Miss 
Washburn's The Animal Mind. The book is admirable. Chap- 
ters x and xliv of Westermarck's work are instructive and enter- 
taining on this subject. Hegel disposes of the animals rather 
summarily. See his Philosophy of Right, § 47. Sidgwick, The 
Methods of Ethics, Book III, chapter iv, 2, is well worth con- 
sulting. See in my own volume, Chapter XXX, § 141. 

For Chapter XXII, I give no references. I appeal only to 
the common sense of my reader. 

7. Chapters XXIII to XXIX. — For the chapters on the 
Schools of the Moralists, XXIII to XXIX, I shall give briefer 
notes than I should have given, were the chapters not already 
so well provided with foot-notes. 

So far as the first four of these chapters are concerned, I shall 
assume that enough has been said, drawing attention only to 
two points which concern Chapter XXIII. 

It is very interesting to note that one of our best critics of 
intuitionism, Henry Sidgwick, was himself an intuitionist. His 
Methods of Ethics deserves very close attention. Again. In- 
tuitions are often spoken of as if they had been shot out of a 
pistol, and had neither father nor mother. To understand them 
better it is only necessary to read chapter viii of Dr. H. R. 
Marshall's little book, Mind and Conduct, which shows how 
difficult it is to mark intuitions off sharply, and to treat them 
as if they had nothing in common with reason. 

Those interested in the ethics of evolution, treated in Chapter 
XXVII, should not miss reading the fourth chapter of Darwin's 
Descent of Man. Huxley's essay, Evolution and Ethics, might 
be read. The " Prolegomena " to the essay is, however, much 
more valuable than the essay itself. Spencer's general theory 
of conduct is best gathered from his Data of Ethics, which was 
reprinted as Part I of his Principles of Ethics. The volume by 
C. M. Williams, entitled, A Review of Evolutionary Ethics, 
gives a convenient account of a dozen or more writers who have 
treated of ethics from the evolutionary standpoint. It is well 



NOTES 371 

not to overlook what Sidgwick has to say of evolution and 
ethics; see The Methods of Ethics, Book I, chapter ii, § 2. 

As for Chapter XXVIII, on " Pessimism," it is enough, I 
think, to refer the reader to Book IV, in Schopenhauer's work 
on The World as Will and Idea. The Book is entitled The 
Assertion and Denial of the Will to Live, where Self -conscious- 
ness has been Attained. See also his supplementary chapters, 
xlvi, on " The Vanity and Suffering of Life," and xlviii, " On 
the Doctrine of the Denial of the Will to Live." For the doc- 
trine of von Hartmann, see chapters xiii to xv, in the part of 
his work entitled, The Metaphysic of the Unconscious. 

For the chapter on Kant, Hegel and Nietzsche, I shall give 
but a few references, though the literature on these writers is 
enormous. The English reader will find T. K. Abbott's trans- 
lation of Kant's ethical writings a very convenient volume 
(third edition, London, 1883). The translation of Hegel's Phi- 
losophy of Right, by S. W. Dyde (1896), I have found good, 
where I have compared it with the original. The word " Right " 
in the title is unavoidably ambiguous, for the German word 
means both " right " and " law." Hegel is dealing, in a sense, 
with both. I have indicated, in a foot-note, that Nietzsche 
ought to be read in the original. He is a marvellous artist. 

Perhaps I should add that Nietzsche will be read with most 
pleasure by those who do not attempt to find in his works a 
system of ethics. I recommend to the reader, especially, his 
three volumes: The Genealogy of Morals; Beyond Good and 
Evil; and Thus Spake Zarathustra; (New York, 1911). 

8. Chapters XXX to XXXVI. — I shall not comment on 
Chapter XXX. It is sufficiently interpreted by what has been 
said earlier in this book. Nor do I think that Chapter XXXI 
needs to be discussed here. I need only say that many moralists 
have commented upon the negative aspect of the moral law. 
It will be remembered that the " demon " of Socrates — a dread- 
ful translation — was a negative sign. I do not think that those 
who have dwelt upon the negative aspect of morality have re- 
flected sufficiently upon the moral organization of society. We 
are put to school unavoidably as soon as we are born. 

I shall not dwell upon Chapters XXXII and XXXIII. Here 
I appeal merely to the good sense of the reader. 

But Chapter XXXIV demands more attention. He who is 
ignorant of history, and has come into no close contact with the 



372 NOTES 

organization and functioning of any state other than his own, 
is as unfit to pass judgment upon states generally, as is the man 
who has never been away from his native village to pass judg- 
ment upon towns generally — towns inhabited by various peoples 
and situated in different quarters of the globe. His lot may, 
it is true, happen to be cast in a good village; but how he is to 
tell that it is good, I cannot conceive. He has no standard of 
comparison. 

Fortunately, his ignorance is not as harmful as it might be. 
The Rational Social Will, which is penetrated through and through 
with traditions wiser than the whims of the individual, carries 
him along upon its broad bosom, and makes decisions for him. 

The sociologist and the political philosopher should be con- 
sulted, as well as the historian, by one who would make a satis- 
factory list of books touching the subject of this chapter. But 
the moralist may be allowed to suggest a few titles, some of 
them very old ones. Plato's Republic is fascinating, and Aris- 
totle's Politics is the shrewdest of books. But compare the 
state as conceived by these men with our notions of a modern 
democracy! More's Utopia is a delight. To get back to earth 
and see what history means to a state, and to its constitution 
and laws, read Sir Henry Maine's Ancient Law. States are not 
made in a day, although, under abnormal conditions, govern- 
ments may be upset, and new ones set up, within twenty-four 
hours. After such unhistorical proceedings, one can scarcely ex- 
pect " fast colors." One or two washings will suffice to show 
what was there before. 

He who has a weakness for the operatic can peruse Rousseau's 
Social Contract and the Declaration of the Rights of Man pub- 
lished in the great French Revolution. As an antidote, I suggest 
Bentham's essay on Anarchical Fallacies. 

But reading will do little good — even historical reading — 
unless one also thinks. It is wonderful how much knowledge 
a man may escape, if he is born under the proper star. I once 
knew an undergraduate in an American university, who attended 
compulsory chapel for more than three years, and who still 
thought that the Old Testament was a history of the Ancient 
Romans. 

There is quite too much to say about Chapters XXXV and 
XXXVI. The only thing to do is to say nothing. I shall touch 
upon just one point in each chapter. I venture to beg the 



NOTES 373 

teacher, when he treats of International Ethics, to read in class, 
with his students, those pages in which Sir Thomas More de- 
scribes the principles upon which the Utopians conducted their 
wars. Remember that Sir Thomas was not merely a statesman, 
but, by common consent, a learned, a great, and a good man. 
Mark the reaction of the undergraduate mind. 

The one matter upon which I shall comment in Chapter 
XXXVI, is the question of belief as an object of approval or of 
censure. Westermarck states (The Origin and Development of 
the Moral Ideas, Volume I, chapter viii, p. 216), that neither 
the Catholic nor the Protestant Church regarded belief, as such, 
as an object of censure. Yet each was willing to punish heresy. 
The point is most interesting, and I hazard an explanation. The 
churches were organizations with a definite object. They made 
use of reward and punishment. This was reasonable enough, 
abstractly considered. However, doctrine was the affair of the 
theologian. Now the theologian, like the philosopher, is a man 
who assumes that he is concerned with proofs, and with proofs 
only. If a thing is proved, how can a man help believing it? 
Only- if he will not, which is sheer obstinacy or perversity. Let 
him, then, be punished on account of his defective character 
(see Westermarck, I, chapter xi, p. 283). 

I think the apparent quibbling here can be gotten rid of by 
recognizing the truth emphasized in § § 167-168, namely, 
that logical proofs play but a subordinate part in the adoption 
or rejection of beliefs touching a vast number of matters both 
secular and religious. If we can influence men's emotions, we 
can influence their beliefs. Both State and Church have this 
power. It is a power that can be abused. But it is, on the 
whole, a good thing that men's beliefs can thus be influenced. 
There would be no stability in human society could they not. 
Every ignorant man — and many men are ignorant — would be 
at the mercy of every clever talker; and he would change his 
beliefs every day. As men act on beliefs, this means that he 
would zig-zag through life to the detriment of all orderly 
development. I beg the reader, learned or unlearned, to put 
aside prepossessions, and to look at things as they are in this 
field. 



INDEX 



Actions: judged in their setting, 
51. 

Activity: as criterion of perfec- 
tion, 252. 

Alexander, S.: 367, 368. 

Animals: their rights, 178; 
Bentham quoted on, 231; 
ethics of reason and, 294. 

Antoninus: see Marcus Aure- 
lius. 

Aristippus: 16, 203, 213, 363. 

Aristotle: on slaves and animals, 
12, 13; on the virtues, 17- 
19; on "well-being," 52-53; 
on size of the state, 69; on 
paternal and maternal love, 
100-101; on ultimate ends, 
103; egoistic doctrine of, 214; 
on man's nature, 243-244; 
on the dying hero, 262; on 
justice to one's child, 316; 
on the state, 319; on rights 
in the state, 324; on infan- 
ticide, 328; writings of, 364. 

Belief: 357 ff.; the church and, 
373. 

Benefit of Clergy: 10. 

Benevolence: Cicero quoted on, 
24. 

Bentham: benevolence a " des- 
sert," 14; his formula, 24; 
on motive, 107; his egoism, 
213, 218; his utilitarianism, 
220 ff.; a philanthropist, 225; 
his assumptions, 226 ff, ; re- 



ferred to, 233; on malicious 
pleasure, 240; on "anarchi- 
cal fallacies," 328; on kinds 
of pleasure, 368. 

Bryce: on the Indian and the 
Negro, 13. 

Butler, Joseph: the accepted in 
morals, 3; his vagueness, 8; 
man's nature, 53; on con- 
science and consequences, 201; 
egoistic utterances, 214, 218; 
on disinterested desires, 236. 

Cambyses: 320. 

Cardinal Virtues: see Virtues. 

Character: defined, 95. 

Church: the virtues and the, 18; 
significance of the, 354; atti- 
tude toward belief, 373. 

Cicero: 23, 24, 199, 247, 364. 

Citizen: ancient conception of, 
13. 

Civilization: moralization and, 
61 ff.; development of, 176. 

Clarke: 188; his rules of right- 
eousness, 192; egoistic ut- 
terances, 214. 

Cleanliness: why a virtue, 315. 

Codes: of communities, 8 ff . ; 
of individuals, 15 ff.; reason 
and, 182. 

Collective Responsibility: 10; ra- 
tionality of, 166-167. 

Common Good: 12 ff. 

Community: its development, 
67 ff.; its size, 69; custom 



375 



376 



INDEX 



and the, 146; what consti- 
tutes a, 148; the dead and 
the, 149-150; the supernat- 
ural and the, 150; religion 
and the, 152; spread of the, 
154; international ethics and 
the, 335 ff. 

Conklin: 365. 

Conscience: Butler on, 53; what 
it is, 311-312. 

Coidanges, Fustel de: 350. 

Credit: significance of, 309. 

Cudworth: 188. 

Custom: defined, 139; origin, 
authority and persistence of, 
140-143. 

Cyrenaics: see Aristippus. 

Darwin: 53, 272, 305, 367, 368, 
370. 

Dead: duties to the, 149. 

Deduction: see Method. 

Descartes: on animal automa- 
tism, 162. 

Desire: its nature, 79 ff . ; the 
unattainable and, 81-82; de- 
sire and desires, 102-103, 
dominant and subordinate, 
121; harmonization of, 122 ff.; 
self-realization and, 257 ff. 

Dewey, John: 11, 23, 209, 237, 
348, 367. 

Distribution of I'lcasures: 230 ff . ; 
292. 

Dogmatism: in morals, 29. 

Dostoievsky: his superman, 284. 

Duty; 298 ff.; obligation and, 
303. 

Economics: ethics and, 343. 
Egoism: misconceives man, 101; 
the doctrine, 203 if.; self-real- 



ization and, 256; doctrine of 
the social will and, 293; see 
Self-sacrifice. 

Emotion: and ethics, 44-46; 
taken alone, non-moral, 51. 

Ends: as objects chosen, 96; 
relation of, to human nature, 
97-98; complex, 105; varie- 
ties of dominant ends, 123; 
reason and ends, 124-125, 
1 69 ff . ; consistently irrational 
ends, 171; reasonable social 
(aids, 172 ff.; see Egoism and 
Utilitarianism. 

Ejnctetus: 17, 153, 187, 315, 
364. 

Epicurus: 16, 219, 363. 

Evolution: the ethics of, 266 ff. 

Eugenics: ethics and, 329, 343. 

Feeling: uses of the word, 49- 
50; relation to action, 113- 
114; as end, 114-116; moral 
judgment and, 194, 196. 

Fidelity: marital, 314. 

Fite: 219, 256, 259, 264, 348. 

Freedom: as end, 117. 

Gallon: on ethics and eugenics, 
329. 

Gardiner: 367. 

God: and the community, 153; 
and the philosopher, 256. 

Good: the concept, 303. 

Green, T. II.: on the cardinal 
virtues, 23; will identical 
with desire, 85; egoistic ut- 
terances, 205 ff., 214; on 
appetite and pleasure, 237; 
liis doctrine, 253 ff.; on self- 
denial, 259, 261; his real doc- 
trine, 348; on pleasure, 368. 



INDEX 



377 



Grotius: on hostages, 13; on 
the law of nature, 24G; his 
illustrations, 331. 

Habits: social, 133. 

Happiness: see Pleasure. 

Hartley: 36. 

Hartmann, von: see Pessimism. 

Hedonism: see Pleasure. 

Hegel: on inequality of rights, 
13; ethical doctrine of, 281 ff. ; 
compared with Kant and 
Nietzsche, 285; on the real 
and the rational, 333; on in- 
ternational law, 338; on be- 
lief, 359; on reason, 369; on 
animals, 370; references, 371. 

Heraclilus: 5. 

Herodotus: 320, 322. 

Hobbes: list of the virtues, 20; 
his egoism, 204, 206; on self- 
preservation, 211. 

Hobhouse: 10; on rationality 
of custom, 165; on social 
man, 211; on lower animals, 
269; referred to, 365, 366, 369. 

Hospitality: and social will, 166. 

Hume: the virtues, 21 ; on rea- 
son and passion, 126. 

Hutchison: on self-interest, 218. 

Huxley: 266, 370. 

Ideals: and character, 95. 
Imptdse: its characteristics, 77- 

79; compared with instinct, 

99. 
Induction: see Method. 
Infanticide: 9, 328. 
Instincts: enumerations of, 99. 
Intention: what it means, 105- 

107; broader than motive, 

107; ethical significance of, 

107-111. 



International Ethics: 330 ff. 

International Law: sec Law. 

Intuitionism: 187 ff.; the ap- 
peal to nature and, 247; per- 
fectionism and, 252. 

James: on the self, 206 ff. ; on 
egoism, 212; his pragmatism, 
357, 358; on desire and will, 
366; on feelings, 367. 

Janet: on final causes, 96; on 
perfection, 251. 

Jus Gentium: see Law of Nations. 

Justice: 8 ff. 

Kant: on desire and will, 85; 
reason as law-giver, 127; his 
categorical imperative, 193, 
195; its interpretation, 200; 
egoistic position, 215; on 
self-sacrifice, 219, 262; ethi- 
cal doctrine of, 279 ff. ; com- 
pared with Hegel and Nietz- 
sche, 285, references, 371. 

Law: compared with custom, 
143-144; international, 155; 
law of nature, 245; moral 
laws, 299 ff.; the state and, 
323 ff. 

Law of Nations: Roman con- 
ception, 14. 

Lex Talionis: 9,10. 

Locke: on moral maxims, 4; 
his list, 21; on moral intui- 
tions, 188, 192. 

Mackenzie: 348. 
Magic: what it is, 151. 
Mahan: quoted, 388. 
Maine, Sir Henry: on the jus 
gentium, 14; on conservatism, 



378 



INDEX 



133; on the law of nature, 
246; on testamentary suc- 
cession, 325. 

McDougall: 237, 350, 366. 

Marcus Aurelius: quoted, 17; 
on uniformity in nature, 40; 
on man's nature, 53; on 
human nature and the law of 
nature, 245; his works, 364. 

Marriage: and divorce, 326. 

Marshall: 366, 367, 370. 

Mathematics: its methods, 33 ff. 

Merit: significance of, 309. 

Method: in ethical inquiry, 33 ff. 

Mill, J. S.: his utilitarianism, 
221, 224 ff.; his argument, 
227; quoted, 263; on feel- 
ings, 367; on pleasures, 368. 

Moralists: denned, 15. 

Moral Law: see Law. 

More, H.: moral intuitions, 188. 

More, Sir Thomas: on conquest, 
334; on war, 373. 

Motive: meaning of, 107; ethi- 
cal significance of, 107-111. 

Muirhead: 255, 348, 366. 

Nature: of man, 52 ff. ; the 
struggle with, 57 ff. ; as ethical 
norm, 243 ff.; law of, 245; 
the norm vague, 246. 

Nero: as diplomat, 342. 

Nietzsche: and human instincts, 
101; the will to have power, 
211; ethical doctrine of, 
282 ff.; references to, 371. 

Objective, Rightness: see Duty. 
Obligation: see Duty. 

Paley: his egoism, 205; his 
argument, 213. 



Perfection: as ethical norm, 
248 ff.; type as criterion of, 
250 ff . ; perfectionism and in- 
tuitionism, 252. 

Pessimism: 274 ff . ; references 
given, 371. 

Philosophy: and ethics, 41, 42, 
345 ff. 

Plato: on citizenship 13; on 
the virtues, 17; on war, 68; 
on the size of the state, 69; 
on social classes, 70; an in- 
tuitionist, 196; on eugenics, 
284; on punishment, 308; 
on the state, 319; on infan- 
ticide, 328; his writings, 
363. 

Pleasure: as unique end, 104; 
as motive, 112- 117; as utili- 
tarian end, 221 ff.; distribu- 
tion of, 230, 292; calculus of, 
232 ff . ; higher and lower, 
297. 

Politics: ethics and, 343. 

Pragmatism: 356 ff. 

Price: 188; his moral intuitions, 
192. 

Public Opinion: compared with 
custom, 144-147. 

Punishment: its measure, 9; 
its bearer, 10; moral law and, 
300; reward and, 306. 

Reason: and ethics, 43 ff. ; 

rationality and will, 118 ff.; 

rationality and ends, 169- 

172; social ends and, 172 ff.; 

the ethics of reason, 175 ff.; 

the varying codes and, 182; 

ethics of, 289 ff. 
Reflection: and moral codes, 24, 

25. 



INDEX 



379 



Reid: fundamental maxims, 22; 
on conscience, 198; on be- 
nevolence and self-interest, 
346. 

Religion: contrasted with magic, 
151; the community and, 152; 
ethics and, 349 ff. 

Resentment: and punishment, 
307, 308. 

Reward: moral law and, 301; 
punishment and, 306. 

Right: the concept, 303. 

Rights: of animals, 178; the 
state and, 323 ff. 

Rousseau: 372. 

Satisfaction: as end, 216; as 
higher and lower, 297. 

Schools of the Moralists: 187 ff. 

Schopenhauer: see Pessimism. 

Self: meanings of the word, 
206 ff. 

Selfishness: the social will and, 
167: see Egoism. 

Self-realization: 22; the doc- 
trine of, 253 ff.; and egoism, 
256 ff ; reason and, 295 ff. 

Self-sacrifice: 258 ff. 

Seneca: on moral intuitions, 
187; on ingratitude, 312; his 
ethics, 364. 

Seth: 261, 367, 368. 

Sidgwick: on Greek ethics, 17; 
on the ethics of the Church, 
18, on benevolence, 24; on 
methods, 33; ethics and math- 
ematics, 36; the aim of ethics, 
43; reason as law-giver, 128; 
on ethical intuitionism, 188; 
his intuitions, 193; 195; on 
conflicting intuitions, 200; 
quoted, 213; egoistic state- 



ment, 214; on self-sacrifice, 
219; on utilitarianism, 228, 
229, 239; his transfigured 
utilitarianism, 242; on the 
limits of self-sacrifice, 262; 
on evolution and ethics, 266, 
268; definition of politics, 
319; on obedience to the 
state, 328; on belief, 360; 
his history of ethics, 363; 
references to, 365; on ani- 
mals, 370; criticizes intui- 
tionism, 370. 

Slatin: the Mahdi, 336. 

Slavery: 9; selfishness and, 168. 

Social Classes: 70. 

Social Contract: a fable, 66. 

Social Will: see Will. 

Spencer: 272, 273, 367, 369. 

Spinoza: on self-preservation, 
211. 

State: ethics of the, 319 ff.; 
rights and duties of the 327. 

Stephen, Sir Leslie: the ac- 
cepted in morals, 3, 16; his 
criterion, 273; on reason, 369. 

Stewart: 201. 

Stoics: 16, 17; on the virtues, 
23; on man's nature, 53; 
desire and will, 85. 

Subjective Rightness: 292. 

Superman: see Nietzsche. 

Supernatural: the community 
and the, 150. 

Thomas, St.: on the virtues, 23; 

his ethics, 364. 
Truth: see Veracity. 
Type: see Perfection. 

Utilitarianism: 22; what it is, 
220 ff. ; argument for it, 



380 



INDEX 



226- ff.; Mill criticized by 
Sidgwick, 228; Sidgwick's 
argument for it, 229; argu- 
ments for and against, 234 ff . ; 
transfigured by Sidgwick, 242. 

Veracity: its significance, 11, 12. 

Vices: defined, 309. 

Virtues: lists of, 17 ff.; the car- 
dinal, 23; duties and, 298 ff.; 
concept of, 309; of the indi- 
vidual, 314; the conventional, 
316 ff. 

Washburn, M. F.: iii; on the 
animal mind, 366, 370. 

Westermarck: quoted, 9, 10, 
11; on Sidgwick's axiom, 
36; ethics based on emotion, 
44-46; on cleanliness, 315; 
referred to, 365, 369, 370, 373. 

Whewell: 188; morals and math- 
ematics, 192. 

Will: and the social order, 71- 
73; its relation to desire, 83- 
84; not identical with desire, 
85-88; deferred action and, 
88; conscious and uncon- 
scious choices, 90-93; ideals 



chosen, 93; permanent ends, 
94-95; character the per- 
manent will, 95; the social 
will, 131 ff.; social habits and 
will, 133 ff. ; social organi- 
zation and, 134-135; ideal 
ends and, 136; permanence of 
social will, 138; custom, law 
and public opinion as re- 
vealing, 139-147; apparent 
and real social will, 159; 
will of the majority, 161; 
ignorance and error, and social 
will, 162; heedlessness, 164; 
concealed rational elements 
in social will, 164; selfishness 
and, 167; man's multiple 
allegiance, 175; utilitarian- 
ism and doctrine of social 
will, 242; the pessimist and 
will, 274 ff.; ethics of the 
social will, 289 ff. ; social will 
and other norms, 289, 290; 
belief and will, 357 ff. 

Williams: 370. 

Woodbridge: iii. 

Wrong: the concept, 303. 

Zeno: 365. 



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